HEINE'S 
BOOK  OF  SONGS. 


HEINE'S 


BOOK  OF  SONGS. 


CHARLES  CT.  LELAND, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  MEISTER   KARL'S  SKETCH-BOOK"  AND  "  SUNSHINE 
IN  THOUGHT." 


m 


PHILADELPHIA: 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  IStiS,  by 

FREDERICK  LEYPOLDT, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 
for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


ELECTROTYPFD    BY   I..  JOHNSON  t   CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 


2a3  if  tcr  alte  2Ki!;t<i}enn>aHi. 

TPIS  the  old  wood  of  fairy  tales  ! 

The  linden  scent  steals  round  me  -, 
And  the  wild,  lovely  moonlight  ray 
With  fairy  charm  has  bound  me. 

And  on  I  went,  and  as  I  went, 

Above  I  heard  a  ringing; 
And  all  of  love  and  loving  pain 

Dame  Nightingale  was  singing. 

She  sings  of  love  and  pains  of  love, 
Of  tears  and  laughs  out-breaking ; 

She  chirps  so  sad,  she  sighs  so  glad, 
Forgotten  dreams  awaking. 

And  on  I  went,  and  as  I  went, 

I  saw  before  me  lying, 
In  a  broad  field,  a  castle  fair, 

Quaint  gabled,  upward  flying. 


Enclosed  windows  everywhere, 

A  silence  full  of  warning  ; 
It  seemed  as  though  the  peace  of  Death 

Dwelt  here  in  awful  mourning. 

Before  the  doorway  crouched  a  sphynx, 
Dread,  with  love  longing  human ; 

The  claws  and  body  lion-like, 
In  head  and  breasts  a  woman. 

A  lovely  one,  whose  rising  glance 
Showed  Love  to  Passion  turning  ; 

The  silent  lips  were  bent  to  kiss, 
Smiling  assent — and  burning ! 

So  sweetly  sang  the  nightingale, 

I  yielded  as  a  lover ; 
And  as  I  kissed  the  lovely  face, 

With  me  'twas  quickly  over. 

All  living  grew  the  marble  form, 

Blood  through  each  vein  flushed  burning ; 
The  flaming  glow  of  my  kisses  hot 

She  drank  with  thirst  and  yearning. 

She  well-nigh  drank  my  breath  away, 

And  then,  in  lust  up- flaring, 
Twined  round  me,  all  my  wretched  limbs 

With  lion-talons  tearing. 

Kavishing  death !  voluptuous  pangs ! 

Infinite  pain  and  pleasure ! 
The  talons  tore  with  agony, 

While  I  sucked  the  mouth's  rich  treasure. 


Sang  nightingale:  "0  lovely  Sphynx, 

0  Love !  what  is  the  reason 
That  you  still  bring  death's  keenest  pain 

To  love's  most  rapturous  season? 

0  lovely  Sphynx  !  0  riddle  wild  ! 

In  vain  I  still  revolve  it : 
I've  turned  it  many  a  thousand  year, 

But  never  yet  could  solve  it." 


— ALL  of  that  I  could  have  very  well  said 
in  good  prose.  .  .  .  But  when  one  reads  over 
his  old  poems  in  order  to  retouch  them  a  little 
for  a  new  impression,  the  jingling  habit  of 
rhyme  and  metre  steals  over  him  unawares, 
and,  lo!  it  is  with  verses  that  I  begin  the 
third  edition.  0  Phoebus  Apollo!  if  these 
verses  are  bad,  you  will  kindly  pardon  me. 
.  .  .  For  you  are  an  omniscient  god,  and  well 
know  why  I  have  not  since  many  years 
busied  myself  much  with  metre  and  harmony. 
.  .  .  You  know  why  the  flame  which  once 
delighted  the  world  with  brilliant  flashes  of 
fire-works  must  all  at  once  be  suddenly  ap 
plied  to  far  more  serious  conflagrations.  .  .  . 
You  know  why  it  now  in  silent  glow  con 
sumes  my  heart.  .  .  .  You  understand  me, 
great,  beautiful  god,  since  you  too  have  now 


and  then  exchanged  the  golden  lyre  with  the 
strong  bow  and  the  deadly  arrows.  ...  Do 
you  not  remember  Marsyas,  whom  you 
flayed?  That  was  long  ago;  and  there  is 
need  of  a  fresh  example.  You  smile,  0  my 
immortal  father ! 

Written  in  Paris,  February  20,  1839. 

HEINKICH  HEINE. 


CONTEXTS. 


PAGE 

I  had  a  dream  long  since  of  Love's  wild  glow 1 

A  dream  right  strange,  yet  dread  to  see 2 

I  saw  myself — 'twas  in  a  dream  by  night 5 

In  dreams  I  saw  a  little  dandy  fellow 5 

What  headlong  madness  stirs  my  blood? 6 

In  sweetest  dreams  by  silent  night 8 

I  have  paid  you  your  price,  but  you're  lingering  still 10 

I  went  from  the  house  of  my  lady  fair 14 

I  lay  and  slept,  and  softly  slept 20 

I've  called  the  pale  dead  round  me 21 

Smtgs. 

When  night  flies,  I  ask  the  morrow 23 

Now  here,  now  there  I'm  urged — at  last 23 

All  under  the  trees  I  wandered 24 

Love,  my  love, — lay  your  small  hand  on  my  heart 25 

Lovely  cradle  of  my  sorrow 25 

Wait,  oh,  wait,  impatient  sailor 26 

Hills  and  towers  are  gazing  downward 27 

I  at  first  was  near  despairing 28 

With  roses,  with  cypress,  and  gold-leaf  bright 28 


Vlll 


PAGE 

THE  MOURNER. — Every  tender  heart  shows  feeling 30 

THE  MOUNTAIN  ECHO. — A  rider  through  the  valley  passed 31 

Two  BROTHERS. — On  yon  mountain-summit  dreaming 31 

POOR  PETER. — 1.  Jack  and  his  Maggie  go  dancing  around 33 

"          "         2.  Deep  in  my  breast's  a  pain  alway 33 

"          "         3.  Poor  Peter  wanders,  tottering,  by 34 

SONG  OF  THE  PRISONER. — Folks  said,  when  my  granny  Eliza 

bewitched 35 

THE  GRENADIERS. — To  the  land  of  France  went  two  grena 
diers 35 

THE  MESSAGE. — Now  rise,  my  squire,  and  saddle  quick 37 

TAKING  HOME  THE  BRIDE. — I  go  not  alone,  my  dainty  love 38 

DON  RAMIRO. — Donna  Clara!  Donna  Clara! 38 

BELSHAZZAR. — Midnight  came  slowly  sweeping  on 44 

THE  MINNESINGERS. — To  the  strife  of  song  forth  wending 46 

LOOKING  FROM   THE  WINDOY.'. — Pale  Henry  caught  fair  Hed- 

•wig's  eye 47 

THE  WOUNDED  KNIGHT. — I  know  a  mournful  reading 47 

THE  VOYAGE. — I  counted  every  falling  wave 48 

THE  BALLAD  OF  RUE. — Sir  Ulrich  in  the  green  wood  rides 49 

To  A  LADY  SINGER. — Even  now,  as  when  I  first  beheld  her....  51 

SONG  OF  THE  DUCATS. — 0  my  golden  ducats !  say 52 

DIALOGUE  ON  THE  PADERBORN  HEATH. — Hear'st  thou  not  far 

music  ringing 53 

LIFE-GREETING. — This  earth  of  ours  is  a  great  highway 55 

YES,  INDEED. — When  spring  is  coining  with  sun-rays  bright...  56 


To  A.  W.  VON  SCHLEGEL. — In  wide-hooped  dress  and  flowers 

of  gaudy  brightness 57 

To  MY  MOTHER,  B.  HEINE,  S£E  VON  GELDERN. 

1.  It  is  my  wont  my  head  right  high  to  carry....  58 

2.  In  wild  delusion  from  thy  side  once  turning  58 
To  H.  S. — I  oped  thy  book  in  haste,  and,  lo,  before  me 59 


jrcsto  Sonnets  10  Christian  S. 

PAGE 

I  dance  not  with,  I  worship  not,  that  rabble  ........................  60 

Give  me  that  mask,  —  for  masked  I'll  cross  the  border  ............  60 

Loudly  I  laugh  at  the  dry,  soulless  flunkey  ..........................  61 

My  brain  is  haunted  by  a  legend  rare  ..................................  61 

When  the  soft  evening  hours  are  sadly  going  ........................  62 

When  I  saw  tbec  again  in  last  year's  meeting  .......................  63 

Beware,  my  friend,  of  devilish  grins  and  glaring  ...................  63 

Thou'st  seen  me  oft  with  knaves  in  altercation  .....................  64 

I  would  be  weeping,  yet  I  cannot  weep  ................................  65 


1822—1823. 

PROLOGUE.  —  There  once  was  a  knight,  sad  and  silent  was  he...  66 

In  the  wondrous  lovely  month  of  May  .................................  68 

Up  from  my  tears  are  growing  .........................  ...................  08 

For  the  dove  or  the  sun,  rose  or  lily  sweet  growing  ...............  68 

Whene'er  into  thine  eyes  I  see  ............................................  69 

That  face  which  ever  fair  did  seem  ......................................  69 

Oh,  lay  thy  cheek  against  my  cheek  ....................................  TO 

I  will  pour  all  my  soul's  deep  feeling  .........................  .........  70 

The  stars  have  stood  unmoving  ...........................................  70 

On  the  wings  of  song  far  sweeping  ......................................  71 

The  lotus-blossom  suffers  ...................................................  72 

In  the  Rhine,  in  the  glorious  river  ......................................  73 

You  love  me  not,  you  love  me  not  .......................................  73 

Come,  twine  in  wild  rapture  round  me  .................................  7-t 

Oh,  do  not  vow,  but  only  kiss  .............................................  74 

Upon  my  darling's  lovely  eyes  .............................................  75 

The  world's  a  fool,  the  world  is  blind  ...................  ...............  75 

Dreamy  phantoms,  fair  and  fleeting  ....................................  75 

Like  the  foam-born  of  the  waters  .............  ,  .........................  76 

I  will  be  patient,  though  my  heart  should  break  ..................  77 

Yes,  thou  art  wretched,  but  I'll  not  complain  .......................  77 

Viol  and  flute  are  sounding  ................................................  78 

So  you  have  forgotten  altogether  .........................................  78 

And  if  the  small  flowers  but  knew  it  ..................................  78 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Why  are  the  roses  so  pale  of  hue 79 

O'er  me  they  much  lamented 80 

The  lindens  blossomed,  the  nightingale  sung 80 

We've  had  many  a  sympathetic  thought 81 

To  me  thon  wert  true  the  longest 81 

Too  long  had  the  earth  kept  back  its  treasure 82 

And  as  I  so  long,  oh,  so  long  delayed 83 

O'er  violets  blue  her  eyelids  fall 83 

The  world  is  so  fair,  and  the  heaven  so  blue 83 

My  own  dear  love,  when  in  the  tomb 84 

A  pine-tree's  standing  lonely 85 

Lovely,  gleaming,  golden  star 85 

Ah!  could  I  but  the  footstool  be 86 

Since  my  sweetheart  went  away 86 

From  the  great  pain  of  my  spirit 87 

Too  oft  I  cannot  bless  thee 87 

Town-snobbies,  their  Sunday  keeping 88 

The  forms  of  times  forgotten 88 

A  young  man  loves  a  maiden 89 

The  Elixir  Yitoe,  friendship,  love 90 

Hear  I  the  ballad  ringing 90 

I  dreamed  of  the  fairest  princess  seen 91 

My  love,  in  our  light  boat  riding 91 

From  ancient  legends  springing 92 

I  have  loved  thee  long,  and  I  love  thee  now 93 

On  a  fair  gleaming  summer  morning 93 

In  the  dark  garb  she's  wearing 9-t 

They  tortured  me  completely 9-t 

The  ruddy  rays  of  summer 95 

Often  when  two  are  parting 96 

With  feelings  refined  and  poetic 96 

My  songs  are  full  of  poison 97 

The  dream  of  old  came  o'er  me 98 

I  stand  upon  a  mountain 98 

My  coach  goes  slowly  rolling 99 

I  wept  while  I  was  dreaming 100 

Each  night  in  dreams  thou  com'st  to  me 100 

The  wind  and  the  rain  are  playing 101 

The  Fall  wind  rattles  the  branches 101 

Yonder  a  star  is  falling 102 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE 

The  Dream-God  brought  me  to  a  giant  pile 103 

The  midnight  uir  was  cold  and  rude 104 

The  suicide  lies  buried 104 

AVhurc  I  am,  still  darker  o'er  me 105 

Night  lay  upon  my  eyelids 105 

The  old  and  evil  ballads 107 

Ik  IJometourfc  |0urntg. 

1823—1821. 

In  my  life  too  dark  and  dreary 109 

I  know  not  what  sorrow  is  o'er  me 110 

My  heart,  my  heart  is  weary HI 

In  the  woods  I  wander  weeping 112 

The  night  is  wet  and  stormy 112 

As  I  once  by  chance  on  a  journey 113 

We  sat  by  the  fisher's  cottage 114 

My  gentle  ferry-maiden 115 

The  moon  is  high  in  heaven 116 

The  quiet  moon  upon  the  clouds 110 

All  wrapped  up  in  gray  cloud-garments 117 

The  wild  wind  puts  his  trousers  on 118 

The  wind  pipes  up  for  dancing 118 

The  night  comes  stealing  o'er  me 119 

When  early  in  the  morning 120 

The  ocean  shimmered  far  around 121 

High  up  on  yonder  mountain 122 

Far  on  the  dim  horizon 123 

Once  more  in  solemn  ditty 123 

Again  through  the  streets  well  known  of  old 124 

I  entered  her  home,  recalling 125 

Calm  is  the  night,  and  the  city  is  sleeping 125 

How  canst  thou  sleep  so  calmly 126 

The  maiden  sleeps  iti  her  chamber 126 

I  stood  in  shadowy  dreaming 127 

I,  a  most  wretched  Atlas,  who  a  world 128 

Ages  may  come  and  vanish 128 

It  seemed  that  the  pale  moon  sadly  shone 128 

"\Vhat  means  this  lonely  tear-drop 129 

The  pale  half-moon  is  floating 130 


Xll  CONTESTS. 

PAGE 

To-night  we  have  dreadful  weather 131 

They  say  that  my  heart  is  breaking 132 

Oh,  thy  lovely  lily-fingers 132 

Has  she  really  never  noticed 133 

They  tenderly  loved,  and  yet  neither 133 

When  first  my  afflictions  you  heard  me  rehearse 134 

I  called  the  Devil,  and  he  came 134 

Mortal!  sneer  not  at  the  Devil 135 

Which  is  the  way  to  Bethlehem 135 

My  child,  we  once  were  children 136 

My  heart  is  sad,  and  with  misgiving 137 

As  the  summer  moon  shines  rising 138 

In  dreams  I  saw  the  loved  one 138 

Friend  of  mine,  why  are  you  ever 139 

But,  I  pray,  be  not  impatient 140 

It  is  time  that  my  mind  from  this  folly  I  free 140 

The  great  King  Wiswa-mitra .' 141 

Heart,  my  heart,  oh,  be  not  shaken 141 

Thou'rt  like  a  lovely  floweret 142 

Child!  it  were  your  utter  ruin 142 

When  on  my  bed  I'm  lying 143 

Maiden  with  thy  mouth  of  roses 143 

Though,  without,  the  snow-drifts  tower 144 

Many  pray  to  the  Madonna 144  * 

And  do  not  my  pale  cheeks  betray 144 

Dearest  friend,  you  are  in  lovo 145 

I  fain  would  linger  near  thee 145 

Bright  sapphires  are  your  beaming  eyes 146 

With  love-vows  I  long  have  bound  me 147 

This  world  and  this  life  are  so  scattered,  they  try  me 147 

To-night  they  give  a  party 148 

I  would  I  could  blend  my  sorrows 148 

Thou  hast  diamonds,  and  dresses,  and  jewels 149 

He  who  for  the  first  time  loves 149 

No!  the  tameness  and  the  sameness 150 

They  gave  me  advice  which  I  scarcely  heeded 150 

I  can  never  speak  too  highly 151 

I  dreamed  that  I  was  Lord  of  all 152 

From  sweetest  lips  have  I  been  forced,  and  driven 154 

We  rode  in  the  dark  post-carriage 154 


CONTEXTS.  Xlll 

PAGE 

Lord  knows  whore  the  wild  young  hussy 155 

When  you  become  my  married  wife 150 

Like  dusky  dreams,  the  houses 156 

What  lies  are  hid  in  kisses 157 

Upon  your  snowy  bosom 158 

Blue  hussars  with  their  trumpets  loud  sounding 158 

I  too,  in  life's  early  season 159 

Seldom  did  we  know  each  other 159 

How  the  eunuchs  were  complaining 159 

'Twas  just  in  the  midst  of  July  that  I  left  you 160 

Near  to  me  lives  Don  Henriquez 160 

Round  the  walls  of  Salamanca 161 

Now  then,  do  you  really  hate  me? 162 

Still  the  same  those  eyes  beguiling 162 

Scarce  had  we  met,  when,  in  tones  and  in  glances 163 

The  sunlight  is  stealing  o'er  mountain  and  river 163 

Ou  strange  road.s  the  night  is  lying 164 

In  the  market-place  of  Halle 164 

Summer  eve  with  day  is  striving 165 

Death  is  a  cool  and  pleasant  night 165 

Say,  where  is  your  own  fair  darling 166 

THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THE  GODS. — The  month  of  May  with  golden 

gleams  is  coming. 166 

RATCLIFF. — The  Dream-God  brought  me  to  a  rural  scene 169 

DOXNA  CLARA. — In  the  pleasant  twilight  garden 173 

ALMANZOR. — 1.  In  Cordova's  grand  cathedral 176 

2.  Hastily  from  the  cathedral 178 

3.  In  the  castle  Alcolea 180 

THE  PILGRIMAGE  TO  KEVLAAR. 

1.  The  mother  stood  at  the  window 181 

2.  The  Virgin  Mary  at  Kevlaar 182 

3.  The  sickly  sou  and  his  mother 183 

rft 

1824. 

PROLOGUE. — Black  dress-coats  and  silken  stockings 185 

MOUNTAIN  IDYLS. — 1.  On  yon  rock  the  hut  is  standing 186 

"  "     — 2.  Fir-tree  with  his  dark-green  fingers 1S8 

"  "        3.  Silently  the  moon  goes  hiding 190 


XIV  .  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  SHEPHERD  BOY.— Every  shepherd  is  a  monarch 194 

THE  BROCKEN.— In  the  East 'tis  ever  brighter 195 

THE  ILSE.— I  am  the  Princess  Use ...  196 


1825-1826. 
PART  FIRST. 

HOMAGE. — Ye  poems!  ye  mine  own  valiant  poems! 198 

TWILIGHT. — On  the  white  strand  of  Ocean 200 

SUNSET. — The  sun  in  crimsoned  glory  falls 201 

NIGHT  ON  THE  SEA-SHORE. — Starless  and  cold  is  the  night 203 

POSEIDON. — The  sun's  bright  rays  were  playing 205 

DECLARATION. — Onward  dimly  came  the  evening 207 

BY  NIGHT  IN  THE  CABIN. — The  sea  has  many  pearl-drops 209 

STORM. — Loud  rages  the  storm 212 

CALM  AT  SEA. — Ocean  silence !  rays  are  falling 213 

A  SEA-PHANTOM. — But  I  still  leaned  o'er  the  side  of  the  vessel  214 

PURIFICATION. — Stay  thou  in  gloomy  ocean-caverns 217 

PEACE. — High  in  heaven  the  sun  was  standing 218 

PART  SECOND. 

SEA-GREETING.— Thalatta!  Thalatta! 220 

STORM. — Dark  broods  a  storm  on  the  ocean 222 

THE  SHIPWRECKED. — Lost  hope  and  lost  love!   All  is  in  ruins..  223 

SUNSET.— The  beautiful  sun-orb 225 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  OCEANIDES. — Colder  the  twilight  falls  on  the 

Ocean 227 

THE  GODS  OF  GREECE. — Thou  full-blooming  moon !  in  thy  soft 

light _ 230 

QUESTIONING. — By  the  sea,  by  the  dreary,  darkening  sea 233 

THE  PJKENIX. — A  bird  from  the  far  west  his  way  came  winging  234 

ECHO. — I  leaned  on  the  mast;  on  the  lofty  ship's  deck 235 

IN  PORT. — Happy  the  man  who  is  safe  in  his  haven 236 

EPILOGUE. — As  in  the  meadow  the  wheat  is  growing..: 239 


TJit  ttSumte  eitifl  ton  irilfccm  Siel'tS.jliUm. 

T  HAD  a  dream  long  since  of  Love's  wild  glow — 

Locks,  mignonette  and  myrtle— all  it  teaches 
Of  sweet  red  kisses  and  of  bitter  speeches  ; 
Sad  airs  of  sadder  songs — long,  long  ago  ! 

My  soaring  dreams  long  since  their  wings  have  folded 
And  passed  away,  so  too  that  visioned  form  ; 
All  that  remains  is  what  in  passion's  storm 

Once  in  rapt  love  in  my  soft  rhymes  I  moulded. 

Thou,  orphaned  song,  art  here !  go  seek  the  wraith 
Of  that  sweet  dream  so  long  from  me  retreating, 
And  when  thou  fmd'st  it,  give  rny  truest  greeting: 

I  send  to  the  airy  shade  an  airy  breath. 


DREAM-PICTURES. 

II. 

6m  Ztaum,  gar  fdtfam  fdjauerticf). 

A     DREAM  right  strange,  yet  dread  to  see. 

Delighted  once  yet  frightened  me : 
E'en  yet  I  see  its  grisly  forms, 
E'en  yet  my  heart  still  heaves  with  storms. 

There  rose  a  garden  very  fair, 
And  I  was  glad  to  wander  there ; 
There  looked  upon  me  pleasant  flowers, 
They  gave  me  hope  of  golden  hours. 

There  birds  were  chirping  in  the  grove 
Full  many  a  charming  song  of  love  ; 
The  red  sun  shot  a  golden  ray 
On  all  the  flowers  in  colors  gay. 

Sweet  perfumes  stole  among  the  trees, 
And  light  and  loving  blew  the  breeze, 
And  all  was  gleaming,  all  was  glad, 
And  all  for  me  in  splendor  clad. 

And  in  this  lovely  flower-land 
I  saw  a  marble  fountain  stand  ; 
And  washing  linen  in  the  stream 
I  saw  a  maiden  in  my  dream. 

Sweet  cheeks,  mild  eyes,  with  glances  faint, 
The  blonde-haired  picture  of  a  saint ; 
And  as  I  looked,  the  maid  seemed  grown 
So  strange,  and  yet  of  old  well  known. 


DREAM-PICTURES. 

And  as  she  urged  her  task  along, 
The  maiden  sung  an  elvish  song : 
"Water,  water,  run  and  shine! 
Wash  my  linen  fair  and  fine!" 

Then  slowly  to  her  side  I  drew, 
And  said,  "0  maiden,  tell  me  true, 
Fair  as  the  fairies,  sweet  and  bright, 
For  whom  is  washed  this  garment  white?" 

"Be  ready  soon!"  she  said  aloud, 

"  It  is  for  you  I  wash  the  shroud ;" 

And  scarce  her  words  were  spoken  through, 

When  forth  like  foam  the  vision  flew. 

And  yet  enchanted  still  I  stood, 
Deep  in  a  dark  and  gloomy  wood ; 
The  trees  to  heaven  their  branches  raised, 
And  I  stood  thinking,  all  amazed. 

And  hark !  a  heavy  echo  rose, 
As  though  some  axe  struck  distant  blows. 
In  haste  through  brake  and  bush  I  roam, 
And  then  into  a  clearing  come. 

And  central  in  the  verdant  space 
A  mighty  oak  had  found  a  place  ; 
And  see !  the  maiden  strange  and  fair 
Was  hewing  with  a  hatchet  there ! 

Blow  fell  on  blow ;  between  each  stroke, 
She  sang  her  song  to  axe  and  oak : 
"Iron  mine,  iron  shine! 
Cut  the  oaken  coffer  fine!" 
2 


DREAM-PICTURES. 

Then  slowly  to  her  side  I  drew, 
And  said,  "I  pray  you,  tell  me  true, 
Young  maiden  strange,  and  wondrous  fair, 
For  whom  is  meant  the  coffer  there  ?" 

"Short  time  is  left,"  she  quickly  spoke, 
"I  cut  your  coffin  from  this  oak  ;" 
And  scarce  her  words  were  spoken  through, 
When  forth  like  foam  the  vision  flew. 

All  dead  and  pale  around  me  lay 
A  barren  heath,  far,  far  away; 
I   could  not  tell  how  came  the  thing, 
Or  how  I  carne  there  shuddering. 

And  as  I  wandered  on  my  way, 
A  brighter  place  before  me  lay. 
I  hastened  still,  I  hastened  more, 
And  found  the  form  I  saw  before. 

On  wide-spread  heath  stood  blonde-white  maid, 
And  dug  the  earth  with  burial  spade ; 
I  hardly  dared  to  look,  for  she 
Was  fair  yet  fearful  still  to  me. 

And  as  she  urged  her  task  along, 
The  maiden  sang  an  elvish  song: 
"Spade,  my  spade,  sharp  and  tried, 
Dig  the  grave  out  deep  and  wide  !" 

Then  slowly  to  her  side  I  drew, 
And  said,  "I  pray  you,  tell  me  true, 
Young  maiden  strange,  and  fair,  and  sweet, 
What  means  this  grave  before  our  feet?" 


LiKEAM  PICTURES.  5 

And  quick  she  spoke,  "  Be  still !  it's  true — 
This  cool,  deep  grave  I've  dug  for  you  ;" 
And  as  the  lovely  maid  replied, 
The  grave  before  me  opened  wide. 

And  as  the  opening  grave  I  view, 
A  freezing  horror  thrills  me  through, 
And  plunging  in  its  funeral  might 
I  fall — but  wake  once  more  to  light. 

III. 

3m  nadit'gcn  Xraiim  fjab'  ic!)  mid)  (cltft  gcidjaut. 

T  SAW  myself — 'twas  in  a  dream  by  night, 

A  black  dress-coat  and  silken  waistcoat  showing, 
With  ruffled  hands  as  to  a  party  going, 
And  by  me  stood  the  loved  one,  fair  and  bright, 
And  with  a  bow  I  said,  "The  bride! — ah — right! 
Accept  my  compliments," — but  the  glib  flowing 
Of  words  was  checked ;  my  very  throat  seemed  growing 
To  stop  this  flippant,  cold,  and  well-bred  rite ; 
When  all  at  once  I  saw  that  she  was  weeping 
Such  a  wild  flood  of  tears,  swelling  with  sighing, 
That  her  dear  form  seemed  well-nigh  from  me  sweep 
ing. 

0  gentle  eyes;  dear  love-stars  fondly  gleaming, 
Although  awake,  I  oft  have  seen  ye  lying. 

1  trust  ye  still, — aye,  though  ye  lie  while  dreaming. 


3m  Traum  falj  id;  ein  JJIcmnrfjcn  flcin  imb  puisia. 

TN  dreams  I  saw  a  little  dandy  fellow, 

Who  walked  on  stilts,  each  step  a  yard  or  two; 


6  DREAM-PICTCRES. 

He  wore  white  linen  and  a  garment  new, 
But  all  within  was  coarse,  and  foul,  and  yellow ; 
Yes,  all  within  was  mean,  corrupt,  and  mellow, 
Although  he  seemed  without  both  sound  and  true. 
And  much  the  creature  bragged  of  courage,  too ; 
And  saucy  was  his  strut,  and  loud  his  bellow. 

"  And  know  you  who  that  is  ?    Come  here  and  see !' 

So  spoke  the  Dream-God,  slyly  showing  me 

Dim  pictures  in  a  magic  glass,  and  then 

Before  an  altar  stood  my  dwarf  in  dress, 

My  loved  one  near  him,  and  as  both  said,  "Yes!" 

A  thousand  devils,  laughing,  cried,  "Amen!" 


V. 

SBaS  treifct  unb  toil  mctn  fotteS  Slut? 

TXTHAT  headlong  madness  stirs  rny  blood  ? 
What  drives  my  heart  with  fiery  goad  ? 
My  blood  boils  up,  ferments,  and  foams, 
And  o'er  my  heart  grim  anger  comes. 

My  blood  boils  up,  and  mad  I  seem, 
For  I  have  had  an  evil  dream ; 
There  came  the  gloomy  Son  of  Night, 
Who  bore  me,  gasping,  in  his  flight. 

He  took  me  to  a  lighted  house, 
Mid  sound  of  harp  and  gay  carouse ; 
Mid  tapers'  gleam  and  torches'  glare, 
I  reached  the  hall  and  entered  there. 


DREAM-PICTURES. 


It  was  a  merry  marriage-feast, 


Gay  at  the  table  sat  each  guest ; 


But  when  the  bridal  pair  I  spied, 


Oh,  woe!  my  darling  was  the  bride  ! 


It  was  my  love,  but  in  my  room 
A  stranger  stood,  and  he  the  groom  ! 
Behind  the  bride's  own  stately  chair 
Silent  I  stood,  still  waiting  there. 

Sweet  music  sounded,- — still  I  stood, 
Gay  sounds  awoke  my  mournful  mood ; 
In  every  glance  the  bride  seemed  blest, 
The  bridegroom  oft  her  fingers  prest. 

The  bridegroom  rilled  his  beaker  high, 
And  drained  it  deep,  then  courteously 
Gave  to  the  bride ;  she  smiled  to  thank : — 
Oh,  woe!  my  crimson  blood  she  drank  ! 

A  dainty  apple  then  she  took, 
And  gave  it  him  with  loving  look; 
Across  the  fruit  his  knife  he  drew, — 
It  was  my  heart  he  cut  in  two. 

They  glance  so  sweet,  they  glance  so  long, 
lie  dares  embrace,  nor  deems  it  wrong; 
Her  red  lips  feel  his  kisses  free, — 
But,  oh !  cold  Death  is  kissing  me. 

My  tongue  lay  in  my  mouth  like  lead, 
No  single  word  could  I  have  said  ; 
The  music  rolled,  the  dance  began, 
The  dainty  bride  pair  led  the  van. 


DEEAM-  PICTURES. 


While  I  stood  corpse-like  on  the  ground, 
The  dancers  swept  so  wild  around ; 
The  groom  speaks  whispering  to  the  bride 
She  blushes, — but  she  does  not  chide  ! 


VI. 

3m  fiijen  traum  bei  flitter  3Jad)t. 

TN  sweetest  dreams  by  silent  night 

There  came  to  me,  through  magic  might, 
The  one  whom  I  love  best  of  all, 
She  came  into  my  chamber  small. 

I  gazed  upon  the  lovely  child, 
I  gazed  on  her,  she  softly  smiled, — 
Smiled  till  my  wildest  love  awoke, 
And  boldly,  madly,  thus  I  spoke : 

"Take  all,  take  what  thou  wilt  of  me, 
What  most  I  love  I'll  give  to  thee, 
If  thou  wilt  be  my  paramour 
From  midnight  to  the  dawning  hour." 

She  looked  on  me  mysteriously, 
So  sweetly,  sadly,  earnestly, 
Then  said,  in  all  her  loveliness, 
"Give  thy  eternal  happiness!" 

"My  life  so  sweet,  the  life  of  youth, 
I'd  give  with  joy  in  very  truth : 
To  thee,  thou  angel,  both  are  given, 
But  ask  not  for  my  hopes  of  heaven." 


DREAM-PICTURES. 

Quickly  the  daring  word  was  said, 
But  fairer,  fairer  seemed  the  maid, 
Still  whispering  in  her  loveliness, 
"Give  thy  eternal  happiness!" 

Harsh  on  my  ear  the  answer  fell ; 
There  rolled  the  burning  sea  of  hell 
To  the  last  recess  of  my  soul ; 
Scarcely  a  breath  could  I  control. 

White  angels  o'er  rne  pinions  spread. 
With  golden  glories  round  each  head ; 
But  storming  wildly,  at  their  back, 
Came  grisly  swarms  of  goblins  black. 

They  battled  with  the  angels  white, 
They  drove  away  the  angels  white ; 
But  then  I  saw  the  black  array 
In  cloudy  vapor  fade  away. 

Oh,  then  I  burned  to  taste  her  charms, 
And  held  my  darling  in  my  arms ; 
She  twined  around  me  like  a  roe, 
But  wept,  and  all  in  bitter  woe. 

She  weeps ;  the  cause  I  know  full  well, 
And  kiss  her  little  rose-lips  still. 
''0  sweetheart,  cease  this  flood  of  tears, 
Yield  to  my  love,  and  not  to  fears! 

'•Yield  to  my  love." — Scarce  spoke  I  twice, 
When  at  one  shock  my  blood  seemed  ice ; 
Deep  groaned  the  earth,  then  opened  fleet 
A  black  abyss  before  mv  feet. 


10  DREAM- PICTURES. 

And  from  the  black  abyss,  like  hail, 
Shot  the  dark  fiends ;  my  love  grew  pale ! 
Far  from  my  arms  my  love  has  flown, 
But  I  am  left,  and  all  alone. 

Then  in  a  ring  and  all  around 
The  devils  dance  with  maddening  bound, 
And  close  they  press,  and  on  me  spring, 
While  screaming  yells  of  mockery  ring. 

And  closer  grows  the  ring  around, 
And  madder  roars  the  shuddering  sound, 
"  Thou  gav'st  away  salvation  free, 
Thou'rt  ours  to  all  eternity!" 


VII. 

Shin  (joft  bu  fcaS  Raufjetb,  nun  jcjcrft  tit  todj? 

T  HAVE  paid  you  your  price,  but  you're  lingering 

still, 
With  your  brow  dark  as  blood, — knave, — go  do  as  I 

will ! 

In  silence  alone  in  my  chamber  I  bide, 
And  midnight  is  coming, — I  wait  for  the  bride. 

There's  a  shuddering  breeze  from  the  burying-ground : 
"0  breeze!  do  you  know  where  my  bride  may  be 

found  ?" 

Pale  spectres  take  figures  aerial  and  thin, 
And  murmur,  "Oh,  yes!"  with  strange  greeting  and 

grin. 


DllEAM-  PICTURES.  11 

"  Unpack  now! — and  give  mo  your  message  entire, 
You  swarthy-faced  scoundrel  in  livery  of  fire!" 
Their  graces  the  company  quickly  approach : 
They  soon  will  be  here  in  their  state-dragon-coach. 

"  Little  gray  mannikin,  what  do  you  seek? 
Long-buried  schoolmaster,  what  is  it? — speak  !" 
Sadly  he  looks,  but  has  nothing  to  say, 
And,  shaking  his  head,  he  goes  tottering  away. 

What  a  shaggy  scamp,  with  his  wag  and  bark! 
What  a  devilish  glare  from  the  cat  in  the  dark! 
What  a  howl  from  those  women  with  waving  hair, 
While  my  old  nurse  is  singing  my  cradle-song  there ! 

"Good  nurse,  your  dull  sing-song  will  tire  me  at  last, 
The  time  for  a  lullaby's  long  ago  past ; 
To-day  is  my  wedding ;  to-day  is  a  feast, — • 
Just  look!  and  see  coming  each  elegant  guest! 

"  Just  look,  now  !  That's  stylish,  I  vow,  and  well-bred; 
For  a  hat,  every  gentleman  carries  his  head ! 
You  spindle-legged  folks  in  your  gallows-array, 
No  wind  has  been  blowing  to  keep  you  away!" 

Old  witch-mother  Broomstick  comes  sweeping  anon : 
''Come  bless  me  now,  Motherkin,  I  am  your  son!" 
With  the  trembling  lips  of  a  sorceress  dread, 
"Amen  to  eternity  !"  Motherkin  said. 

Twelve  wind-dried  musicians  come  hobbling  in ; 
Blind  Fiddle-wife  stumbles  along  between. 
Jack  Pudding  comes  jigging  with  Harlequin  Jack, 
Bearing  the  grave-digger  in  pick-a-back. 


12  DREAM-PICTURES. 

Twelve  nuns  from  a  cloister  come  dancing  this  way, 
And  a  squinting  old  pander-wife  leads  the  array ; 
Twelve  lusty  young  friars  come  close  pressing  on, 
Singing  sinful  songs  in  a  clerical  tone. 

"Old  clothesman,   why  yell  till  your   face   is  dead 

blue? 

In  hell-fire  that  fur  cloak  no  service  can  do! 
There  they  heat  it  gratis  year  in,  year  out, 
With  the  bones  of  prince  or  of  beggar-lout." 

Crooked-backed  flower-girls,  tumbling  to  ground, 
Go  stumbling  their  somersaults  everywhere  round. 
"Grasshopper-legs  with  the  face  of  an  owl, 
Cease  rattling  your  ribs,  and  be  still  with  your  howl!" 

All  hell  together  is  loose,  I  see, 

Raving  and  waving  in  myriads  free ; 

While  the  waltz  of  damnation  begins  to  hum  : — 

Hush!  hush! — for  my  darling  the  bride  is  come! 

"You  rabble,  be  silent,  or  get  you  all  gone! 
I  scarcely  can  hear  any  word  of  my  own, — 
And  there  comes  the  sound  of  a  carriage  and  four ! 
Hey,  Cook! — oh,   where   are   you? — run,   open   the 
door!" 

"Oh,  welcome,  my  darling.     And  how  is  my  dear? 
Your  Reverence  is  welcome, — there's  place  for  you 

here! 

Your  Reverence  with  horse-hoof  and  wonderful  tail, 
I  am  yours  to  command,  sir, — nor  fear  I  shall  fail." 


BREAM-PICTURES.  13 

"My  bride,  my  beloved ! — why  pale  and  so  still? 
The  priest  and  the  wedding  but  wait  for  your  will : 
As  dear  as  heart's  blood  is  his  horrible  fee, 
But  it  seems  a  mere  toy,  since  it  gives  you  to  me. 

"Kneel  down  by  me,  darling,  my  beautiful  bride!" 
She  kneels,  she  is  sinking — oh,  joy! — at  my  side: 
She  sinks  on  my  heart,  on  my  wild-beating  breast, 
And  with  shuddering  rapture  her  charms  are  caressed. 

Her  wild  hair  in  gold  waves  hides  us  both  in  its  play, 
On  my  heart  the  maid's  heart  is  beating  away, 
And  throbbing  with  agony,  burning  with  bliss, 
AVe  soar  to  a  region  more  raptured  than  this. 

Our  hearts  in  an  ocean  of  ecstasy  swim 

In  regions  celestial  and  holy  to  HIM, 

But  still  on  our  heads,  as  a  curse  and  a  brand, 

All  hell  to  eternity  presses  its  hand. 

And  the  priest  in  his  robes  is  the  dark  Son  of  Night, 
Who  gives  us  the  blessing  which  quenches  our  light ; 
From  a  blood-written  volume  he  murmurs  each  verse, 
The  prayer  is  black  blasphemy,  blessing  is  curse. 

There  is  crashing  and  hissing  to  madden  the  soul, 
Like  the  roaring  ocean  or  thunder-roll ; — 
A  blue  flame  flashes  above  our  head, — 
"Amen  to  eternity!"  Motherkin  said. 


14  DREAM -PICTL'EES. 

VIII. 

3cf)  fam  ton  meinet  £errin  $au8. 

T  WENT  from  the  house  of  my  lady  fair, 

I  wandered  in  madness  and  dark  despair  ; 
And  as  by  the  churchyard  I  went  my  way, 
Sadly  the  gravestones  signed  me  to  stay. 

The  minstrel's  tombstone  made  me  a  sign, 

In  the  glimmering  light  of  the  pale  moon's  shine: 

"Good    brother,     I'm   coming,"- — wild    whispering 

flows ; 
Pale  as  a  cloud  from  the  grave  it  rose. 

'Twas  the  harper  himself:  from  the  grave  he  flits; 
High  on  the  tombstone  the  harper  sits; 
O'er  the  strings  of  the  cithern  his  fingers  sweep, 
And  he  sings,  in  a  voice  right  harsh  and  deep : 

"What!  know  ye  yet  that  song  of  old, 
Which  through  the  heart  once  deeply  rolled, 

Ye  strings  now  plow  to  move  ? 
The  angels  call  it  Heaven's  joy, 
The  devils  call  it  Hell's  annoy, 

But  mortals  call  it — love!" 

Scarce  had  sounded  the  last  word's  tone, 

Ere  the  graves  were  opened,  every  one, 

And  airy  figures  came  pressing  out, 

And  sweep  round  the  minstrel,  while  shrill  they  shout, 

"Love,  Love,  it  was  thy  might 
Laid  us  in  these  beds  with  right, 


DREAM-PICTURES.  15 

Closed  our  eyelids  from  the  light : 
Wherefore  call'st  thou  in  the  night?" 

So  the  pack  howls   bewild'ring,  and  screeches  and 

groans, 

And  roaring  and  rushing  it  crackles  and  moans, 
And  mad  round  the  minstrel  the  wild  swarm  flings, 
And  wildly  his  fingers  sweep  over  the  strings : 

"Bravo!  bravo!  madder  still! 
Still  welcome  be 
All,  all  of  ye, 

All  who  mind  my  magic  spell ! 
Though  in  little  homes  of  clay 
Still  as  mice  long  years  we  lay, 
Now  we'll  drive  time  merrily  on, 

If  it  should  please! 
First  look  round  ! — are  we  alone  ? 
Fools  we  were  while  we  were  living, 
All  our  souls  to  madness  giving, 
To  Love's  rapturous  agonies. 
Merry  sport  to-night  can't  fail  us: 
Every  one  shall  truly  tell  us 
What  it  was  of  old  that  drove, 

How  he  was  urged, 

How  he  was  scourged, 
In  the  crazy  hunt  of  Love!" 

As  light  as  the  wind  from  the  circle  there  sprang 
A  starveling  creature,  who  murmuring  sang, 

"I  was  a  tailor's  journeyman 
With  needle  and  with  shears ; 


16  MtEAM   PK'TUKES. 

So  quick  and  slick  through  work  I  ran 
With  needle  and  with  shears  ; 

But  then  my  master's  daughter  came, 
With  needle  and  with  shears, 

And  stuck  me  in  my  heart,  you  know, 
With  needle  and  with  shears." 

Gayly  the  ghost-laugh  went  ringing  about ; 
Silent  and  solemn  a  second  stepped  out. 

"Bravo  Rinaldo  Einaldini, 
Schinderhanno,  Orlandini, 
And  Carlo  Moor  especially, 
Were  the  model  men  for  me. 

And  I  too, — I'm  proud  to  mention, — 
Like  them,  paid  to  love  attention. 
A  genteel  and  lovely  form 
Haunted  me  quite  like  a  storm. 

Then  I  sighed  and  sobbed  till  crazy ! 
Yes, — till  Love  had  made  me  hazy : 
And — distractedly,  I  vow — 
I  picked  a  pocket,  GOD  knows  how ! 

But  the  beadle  grudged  that  I 
Tears  of  feeling  went  to  dry 
With  my  neighbor's  handkerchief, 
So  he  took  me — for — a  thief  ! 

By  old  catchpoll-custom  then, 
I  was  led  'mid  armed  men, 
And  the  jail  so  great  in  grace 
Gave  a  motherly  embrace. 


LiKKAil-PICTUKKS.  17 

With  love  raptures  in  my  head, 
Spinning  woolen  there  I  stayed, 
Till  Riualdo's  shade  one  day 
Took  niy  soul  with  him  away." 

Gayly  the  ghost-laugh  went  ringing  about ; 
Rouged  and  bedizened,  a  third  stepped  out: 

"As  a  king  in  the  theatre  I've  thriven, 
And  played  in  the  first-lover  line; 

Roaring  many  a  furious  '  Oh,  Heaven  '.' 
Sighing  many  a  tender  '  Love,  thine!' 

My  Mortimer  was — what  it  should  be, 
And  Maria ! — her  beauty  was  grand  ; 

But  my  gestures,  though  natural  as  could  be, 
Never  won  from  the  beauty  'a  hand:' 

Till  at  last,  when  despairing  completely, 
'Maria,  tliou  saint,  see  me  weep!' 

And,  turning  my  dagger  quite  neatly, 
I  stuck  it  a  trifle  too  deep." 

Gayly  the  ghost-laugh  went  ringing  about; 
in  a  white  wrap-rascal  the  fourth  strolled  out: 

"In  his  lecture-chair  the  professor  muddled 

And  twaddled,  and  sent  me  to  sleep, — the  old  quiz  ! 

.  But  I  could  have  slept  with  more  comfort,  if  cuddled 
In  bed  with  that  beautiful  daughter  of  his  ! 

From  the  window  her  greetings  she  tenderly  showered : 
The  flower  of  all  flowers, — my  life-light  so  true ! 


18  DREAM-PICTURES. 

But  the  flower  of  the  flowers  at  length  was  deflowered 
By  a  dry  old  Philister  as  rich  as  a  Jew. 

Then  I  cursed  all  the  women  and  rich  old  hunkers, 

And  mixed  devil's  bitters  with  wine  to  stop  groans, 
And   drank   friendship  with  Death   until   I  was  as 

drunk  as 

The  deuce.     Says  he,   '  Eight,  lad  ! — my  name  is 
Jack  Bones!'" 

Gayly  the  ghost-laugh  went  ringing  about ; 

"With  a  rope  round  his  throttle  the  fifth  walked  out: 

"The  count  paraded  and  boasted  o'er  wine, 
Of  his  daughter  divine,  and  his  jewelry  fine ; 
What  care  I,  count  mine,  for  your  diamonds  fine? 
My  taste's  for  your  daughter, — ah,  if  she  were  mine ! 

Both  were  close  under  lock  and  key, — 
And  the  count  had  many  a  servant  in  pay ; 
But  I  cared  not  for  servants,  for  lock,  or  for  key, — 
So  up  on  the  ladder  I  went  my  way. 

Up  to  love's  window  I  clambered  fleet, 
But  heard  hard  cursing  beneath  my  feet : 
'  Easy,  my  boy  ;  give  us  room  on  the  shelf ! 
For  I  have  a  fancy  for  jewels  myself!' 

So  the  count  mocked,  and  had  me  bound, 
While  the  swarm  of  servants  came  shouting  round  ; 
'The  devil !    D'ye  think  I'm  a  thief?'  I  cried: 
'When  to  steal  a  sweetheart  was  all  I  tried?' 


And  when  the  sun  rose,  he  wondered  to  see 
A  gentleman  swing  on  the  gallows-tree." 

Guvly  the  ghost-laugh  went  ringing  about; 
With  his  head  hi  his  hands  the  sixth  stepped  out 


"Love  drove  to  hunting  and  to  harm. 


A  croaking  sound  came  from  the  tree, 


'  If  I  could  only  find  a  dove, 

I'd  take  it  home  to  her  I  love!' 

And  so  through  woods,  o'er  bush  and  ground, 

My  hunter's  eye  went  glancing  round. 

What  bills  and  coos  so  soft  and  fair? 
Two  turtle-doves  are  nestling  there! 
To  them  with  rifle  cocked  I  draw, 
And  there  my  own  dear  love  I  saw. 

My  love, — that  was  the  dove  I  traced, 
A  stranger  her  warm  form  embraced ! 
Now  let  your  aim,  old  shot,  be  good ! — 
There  lay  the  stranger  in  his  blood. 

And  soon  a  train  with  hangman's  fare — 
And  I  the  leading  person  there — • 
Went  through  the  wood.     Up  in  the  oak, 
'Heads  off!'  I  heard  the  raven  croak." 
3 


20  DKEAM-PICrUKE*. 

Gayly  the  ghost-laugh  went  ringing  about; 
And  now  the  harper  himself  came  out. 

"Time  was  when  my  song  was  waking, 
The  end  of  my  song  is  como  ; 

When  the  heart  within  is  breaking, 
'Tis  time  for  the  songs  to  go  home!" 

And  doubly  maddening  the  laughter  swept ; 
And  up  the  white  phantoms  in  circles  swept, 
Till  ONE  from  the  belfry  came  pealing  down, 
And,  howling,  each  ghost  to  his  grave  has  gone. 


IX. 

3i)  tajj  uub  idjlief,  unb  fdjlicf  rccfyt  mile. 

T  LAY  and  slept,  and  softly  slept, 

Afar  were  grief  and  woe ; 
And  then  a  dream-form  to  me  swept : 
The  fairest  maid  I  know. 

As  pale  she  seemed  as  marble  stone, 
And  strangely,  wondrous  fair ; 

Her  swimming  eyes  had  pearl-like  grown, 
And  dream-like  flowed  her  hair. 

And  softly,  ever  softly  moved 

The  maiden  marble  pale, 
And  laid  her  on  the  heart  she  loved, 

My  maiden  marble  pale. 

How  beat  with  pain,  with  love's  sharp  zest, 
My  heart, — how  warm  it  burned ! 


DREAM-PICTL'KES. 

No  throb  was  in  the  fair  one's  breast, — • 
To  ice  that  breast  was  turned. 

"  No  throb,  no  heat  is  in  my  heart, 

As  ice  I  feel  it  cold  ; 
Yet  well  I  know  of  love  the  smart, 

Its  power  all  untold. 

"On  month  and  lips  there  glows  no  red, 
My  heart-veins  feel  no  blood  ; 

Yet  strive  not  so  with  shuddering  dread, 
To  thee  I'm  dear  and  good." 

And  wilder  still  she  winds  me  round, 
Half  paining,  grasping  tight; 

Loud  crow'd  the  cock, — without  a  sound 
Forth  fled  the  maiden  white. 


T'VE  called  the  pale  dead  round  me, 

Full  oft  by  magic  might ; 
And  now  to  themselves  they've  bound  me, 
And  will  not  depart  by  night. 

The  spell  which  the  Master  taught  me 
In  my  terror  no  more  will  come ; 

And  the  spectres  have  well-nigh  brought  me 
Away  to  their  cloudy  home. 

Cease,  ye  black  fiends  up-swelling! 
Press  not  around  in  might! 


22  DEEAM-PICTURES. 

Why, — rapture  perhaps  is  dwelling 
Up  here  in  a  rosy  light ! 

I  must  strive,  while  life  beats  through  me, 
For  the  beautiful  flower  life  bore ; 

What  value  had  all  life  to  me 

Could  I  love  that  flower  no  more  ? 

And  oh  that  I  once  could  capture 

And  hold  her  embraced  again, 
And  her  lips  and  cheeks  in  rapture 

Kiss  wildly  with  life's  sweet  pain ! 

And  that  once  from  her  mouth,  though  sadly. 

A  word  of  love  might  come  ! 
Ah,  then,  ye  grim  ghosts,  how  gladly 

I'd  pass  to  your  terrible  home! 

They  have  heard  my  vow,  and  they  hold  me, 

And  bow  to  it  fearfully ; 
Loved  heart,  for  thy  love  I  have  sold  me ! 

Loved  heart!  say, — oh,  lovest  thou  me;? 


£  Jiangs. 


TOcK|en3  fteli'  id;  <ut\  unt  franc. 

'HEN  night  flies,  I  ask  the  morrow, 
Comes  my  love  to-day? 
Then  at  eve  I  yield  to  sorrow, 
Yet  another  day ! 

And  the  night  with  little  sleeping, 

But  with  grief  enough,  is  gone  ; 
Half  asleep,  my  sorrow  keeping, 

Through  the  day  I  wander  on. 

II. 

G3  treitt  mitt)  "tin,  c3  tretfct  mid)  f>er. 

"AJOW  here,  now  there  I'm  urged — at  last ! 

But  a  few  hours  to  wait,  and,  oh,  then  I  shall 

meet  her, 

The  fairest  of  maidens, — and  soon  I  shall  greet  her: 
0  faithful  heart,  why  this  beating  so  fast  ? 


21  so\os. 

Oh,  but  the  hours  arc  a  lazy  pack  ! 

Strolling  at  their  ease,  and  idle  ; 

Rolling,  yawning,  how  they  sidle 
To  each  other! — run,  you  pack! 

Raging  impatience  is  driving  me  fast ; 
Surely  the  hours  were  never  love-plighted, 
Since  in  a  cruel  sly  compact  united 

They  spitefully  mock  at  all  true  lovers'  haste. 

III. 

3dj  isnubelte  itntct  ben  SPaumcn. 

A  LL  under  the  trees  I  wandered, 

I  with  my  grief  alone  ; 
There  came  the  old  dreams  as  I  pondered, 
And  into  my  heart  went  down. 

Who  taught  ye  that  spell  on  my  spirit, 
Birds,  high  o'er  the  wind  and  the  rain  ? 

Be  still ! — if  my  heart  should  but  hear  it, 
'Twould  cost  it  full  many  a  pain. 

"  All  under  the  greenwood  walking, 
A  maiden  singing  we  heard  : 

So  we  birds  repeat  in  our  talking 
That  beautiful  golden  word." 

No  more  from  your  memory  borrow  : 
Too  much  for  a  small  bird  you  know  ; 

You  fain  would  be  stealing  my  sorrow, 
But  /trust  in  nobody, — no ! 


IV. 


T  OVE,  my  love,  —  lay  your  small  hand  on  my  heart, 

Hear,  every  second  a  beat  and  a  start  ! 
There  dwells  a  carpenter,  —  evil  is  he,  — 
Always  at  work  on  a  colrin  for  me. 

He  hammers  by  night,  and  ho  hammers  by  day  ; 
Long  he  lias  driven  my  sleep  far  away; 
Hammer,  old  carpenter,  hummer  your  best  ! 
So  that  I  quickly  may  go  to  my  rest. 


Sdjonc  SEicjc  mcinct  Si'tben. 

T  OVELY  cradle  of  my  sorrow, 
Lovely  tomb  of  peace  to  rne. 
Lovely  town,  we  part  to-morrow,  —  • 
And  farewell  I  cry  to  thee  ! 

Sacred  home,  —  you'll  see  me  never, 
Isever  more  where  she  has  strayed 

Home,  farewell  !  —  we  part  forever. 
Where  I  first  beheld  the  maid. 

Had  there  only  been  no  meeting  , 
Queen  of  hearts,  with  you,  I  vow, 

I  should  not  be  thus  repeating 
That  I  feel  so  wretched  now. 

I  ne'er  sought  to  win  and  wear  you, 
And  I  asked  not  for  your  faith  ; 


But  in  peace  to  live,  and  near  you, 
Where  the  breezes  caught  your  breath. 

You  yourself  did  force  this  parting, 
Bitter  words  I  heard  you  speak  ; 

And  with  madness  through  me  darting, 
All  my  heart  is  sore  and  weak. 

And  with  limbs  both  weak  and  weary, 

.  With  my  travelling  staff  I'll  go, 
Till  the  grave,  all  still,  though  dreary, 
Gives  me  rest  in  lands  below. 


VI. 

SSarte,  txatie,  irilbet  SdjtffSmann. 

TITAIT,  oh,  wait,  impatient  sailor  ! 
Fast  enough  my  footsteps  stir  ; 
From  two  maidens  I  am  parting, — 
From  Europa,  and  from  her. 

And  may  blood,  in  streams,  burst  from  me ! 

Blood,  in  streams,  come  dim  my  sight ! 
That  with  blood,  and  all  hot  burning, 

I  my  anguish  down  may  write. 

Ah,  my  dearest! — why  this  mourning? 

Shudderest  thou  my  blood  to  see  ? 
When  all  pale  and  heart  a-bleeding, 

Years — long  years — I  stood  by  thee  ! 

Know'st  thou  not  the  ancient  ballad 
Of  the  snake  in  Paradise, 


Who  by  evil  gift  of  apples 
Drove  our  ancestor  to  vice? 

Apples  brought  us  every  evil, 

EVE,  with  apples,  brought  us  death  ; 

EEIS  brought  the  flames  to  Ilium, — 
Thou  didst  bring  both  flames  and  death. 


VII. 


TTI 


ILLS  and  towers  are  gazing  downward 

In  the  mirror-gleaming  Rhine, 
And  my  boat  drives  gayly  onward, 
While  the  sun-rays  round  it  shine. 


Calm  I  watch  the  wavelets  stealing, 
Golden  gleaming,  as  I  glide  ; 

Calmly  too  awakes  the  feeling 
Which  within  rny  heart  I  hide. 

Gently  greeting  and  assuring, 
Bright  the  river  tempts  rne  on  ; 

W'ell  I  know  that  face  alluring  ! 
Death  and  night  lie  further  down  ! 

Joy  above,  at  heart  beguiling,  — 

Thou'rt  my  own  love's  image,  Flood  ! 

She  too  knows  the  art  of  smiling, 
She  can  seem  as  cairn  and  good. 


28 


VIII. 

\vc11t'  id)  (aft 


T  AT  first  was  near  despairing ; 

Never  hoped  to  endure  as  now, 
And  at  length  the  whole  I'm  bearing ; 
Only,  do  not  ask  me  how. 


IX. 

SDMt  Slofen,  Gwreffen  itnb  gltttergclb. 

roses,  with  cypress,  and  gold  leaf  bright,* 
Fain  would  I  cover,  lovely  and  light, 
This  book  of  mine,  like  a  coffin  thin, 
And  bury  my  songs  like  a  corpse  therein. 

And,  oh,  could  I  bury  this  love  in  repose ! 
The  flower  of  quiet  on  love's  grave  grows  : 
There  it  blooms,  and  is  plucked  when  full  and  high  ; 
But  mine  will  ne'er  blossom  till  buried  I  lie. 

For  here  are  the  songs  which  so  wildly  rose, 

Wildly  as  Etna  his  lava  throws ; 

Up  they  burst  from  my  soul's  abyss, 

Mad  was  their  flame  with  its  sparkle  and  hiss. 

Now  they  lie  dumb  as  the  dead  in  their  shrouds, 
Now  they  stare  coldly  and  white  as  the  clouds  ; 

*  In  allusion  to  tlio  curious  Gorman  custom  of  adorning  tlio 
dead  with  leaf  gold  as  well  as  flowers. 


29 


Yet  the  glow  from  their  ashes  to  life  would  leap, 
If  the  spirit  of  love  should  over  them  sweep. 

And  feelings  prophetic  within  me  say 
That  love's  spirit  will  melt  o'er  them  yet  some  da}-, 
If  this  book  should  ever  conic  to  thy  hand, 
Thou  dearest  love  in  a  distant  land. 

And  then  from  the  spell  of  song  set  free, 
The  death-white  letters  shall  look  at  thce ; 
Look  in  thy  beautiful  eyes  with  prayer, 
And  sorrow  and  love  will  be  whispering  there. 


M?^: 

>v  t?j\  v  . 

3+'.. 

i. 

THE  MOURNER. 

Slttcn  thut  c5  ftclj  im  §erjcn. 

THVERY  tender  heart  shows  feeling, 

When  that  pale  boy  comes  again  .- 
For  the  sorrow  he's  concealing, 
In  his  face  is  written  plain. 

And  the  pitying  breezes  greet  him, 
Fanning  cool  his  burning  brow  ; 

And  the  once  proud  girls  who  meet  him 
Kindly  would  console  him  now. 

From  the  cities'  roar  and  bustle, 
Now  he  seeks  the  forest  bounds ; 

Merrily  the  green  leaves  rustle, 
Merrily  the  bird-song  sounds. 

But  the  song  soon  has  an  ending  : 

Sadly  rustle  leaf  and  tree 
When,  all  slowly  woodward  tending, 

The  pale,  mournful  boy  they  see. 
30 


ANCES.  31 

II. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  ECHO. 


A     RIDER  through  the  valley  passed, 

And  sang  a  mournful  stave,  — 
"And  ride  I  hence  to  my  true  love's  anas 
Or  to  a  gloomy  grave9" 
The  rocks  an  echo  gave  : 
"A  gloomy  gravel" 

And  onward  rode  the  cavalier, 

And  still  his  sighs  increase  ; 
"So  I  must  away  to  an  early  grave! 

Well,  then,  —  the  grave  hath  peace." 

The  echo  would  not  cea-e: 
"The  grave  hath  peace." 

And  from  the  rider's  care-worn  cheek 

A  single  tear  there  fell  ; 
"And  if  only  the  grave  has  peace  for  me, 

Why,  then,  —  in  the  grave  all's  well  !" 

The  echo  gave  a  knell,  — 

"  In  the  grave  all's  well  !" 

III. 

TWO  BROTHERS. 

Ctcn  auf  tct  Scrjcjivite. 

(~)N  yon  mountain-summit  dreaming, 
Wrapped  in  night,  dim  towers  lie  ; 


ROMANCES. 

In  the  valley  lights  are  gleaming, 
Shining  swords  in  combat  fly. 

Those  are  brothers  who  are  fighting ; 

Grim  the  strife  as  fury's  brand : 
Why  are  brothers'  quarrels  righting 

With  the  rapier  in  the  hand  ? 

Countess  Laura's  bright  eyes  burning 
Lit  the  brothers'  rage,  'tis  said. 

Both  were  drunk  with  love,  and  burning 
For  the  noble,  lovely  maid. 

But  for  whom  has  she  decided  ? 

Whither  turns  her  heart  ?  but  now 
All  debate  is  still  divided, — 

Sword,  flash  out ! — decide  it  thou ! 

Madly  now  they  fight  despairing, 
Cut  on  cut  with  crashing  might ; 

But  beware,  ye  blades  so  daring ! 
Devilish  spells  flit  round  by  night ! 

Woe,  oh,  woe!  each  cruel  brother! 

Woe !  thou  bloody  vale  of  ill ! 
Each  leaps  headlong  at  the  other, 

Dying  on  the  other's  steel ! 

Centuries  like  mists  have  faded, 
Many  an  ancient  race  is  flown  ; 

Still  in  the  mountain's  darkest  shadow 
Sad  the  empty  tower  looks  down. 


33 


But  by  night,  deep  in  the  valley, 

When  dim  forms  sweep  strangely  round, 

Forth  to  fight  the  brothers  sally 

When  they  hear  the  midnight  sound. 

IV. 

POOR   PETER. 
1. 


TACK  and  his  Maggie  go  dancing  around, 

Shouting  like  merry  mad  creatures  ; 
Peter  is  standing  all  dumb  on  the  ground, 
Whiter  than  chalk  are  his  features. 

Jack  and  his  Maggie  are  bridegroom  and  bride, 
Their  gay  wedding-garments  displaying  ; 

Peter  is  gnawing  his  nails  all  aside, 

And  round  in  his  working-dress  straying. 

Peter  speaks  slowly  and  sad  from  his  heart, 
As  he  sees  how  the  fond  couple  go  it ; 

"All!  if  I  were  not  just  a  little  too  smart, 
I  should  do  myself  mischief, — I  know  it!" 

2. 

2,n  mcincv  SJruft  ba  filjt  cm  S3c^. 

"T\EEP  in  my  breast's  a  pain  alway, 
Until  my  breast  seems  bursting  ; 
And  where  I  stay,  or  where  I  stray, 
It's  driving  me  and  thrusting. 


34  ROMANCES. 

It  drives  me  to  the  girl  I  prize, 
As  if  I  thought  she'd  cure  it ; 

But  when  I  look  her  in  the  eyes, 
I  go, — and  still  endure  it. 

I  climb  away  to  the  mountain-top, 
Where  no  man  hears  me  sighing ; 

And  then,  when  still  up  there  I  stop,- 
Stop  still, — and  go  to  crying. 


3. 

Ser  armt  £etcr  tvantt  tterfcd. 

POOR  Peter  wanders,  tottering,  by, 
Pale  as  a  corpse,  and  slow  and  shy ; 
And  those  who  see  him  in  the  street, 
Amazed,  half  check  their  rapid  feet. 

Girls  whisper  in  each  other's  ear, 
"  He's  risen  from  the  grave,  it's  clear." 
My  gentle  girls,  you're  wrong,  I  know : 
He's  hastening  to  the  grave  below. 

He's  lost  his  love,  and  all  seems  dim ; 
The  grave's  the  proper  place  for  him, — 
The  fittest  place  his  head  to  lay, 
And  slumber  till  the  judgment-day. 


ROMANCES.  uO 

V. 

SONG  OF  THE  PRISONER. 

3113  mcine  Qrcjimuttct  tie  Stje  fcetjert. 

T^OLKS  saiil,  when,  my  granny  Eliza  bewitched, 
She  must  burn  for  her  horrid  transgression  ; 
Much  ink  from  his  pen  the  old  magistrate  pitched, 
But  he  could  not  extort  a  confession. 

Aad  when  in  the  kettle  my  granny  was  thrown, 
She-  yelled  d'jath  and  murder  while  dying  ; 

And  when  the  blade  smoke  all  around  us  was  blown, 
As  a  raven  she  rose  and  went  flying. 

Little  black  grandmother  feathered  so  well, 
Oh,  come  to  the  tower  where  I'm  sitting; 

Bring  cakes  and  bring  cheese  to  me  here  in  the  cell, 
Through  the  iron-barred  window  flitting. 

Little  black  grandmother  feathered  and  wise, 

Just  give  my  aunt  a  warning ; 
Lest  she  should  come  fluttering  and  pick  out  ray  eyes 

When  I  merrily  swing  in  the  morning. 

VI. 

THE  GRENADIERS. 

?!ac^  Jranfreid)  jcjen  jreei  Qrenaiter. 

rpO  the  land  of  France  went  two  grenadiers, 

From  a  Russian  prison  returning ; 
But  they  hung  down  their  heads  on  the  German  fron 
tiers, 

The  news  from  their  fatherland  learning. 
4 


36  ROMANCES. 

For  there  they  both  heard  the  sorrowful  tale 
That  France  was  by  fortune  forsaken  ; 

That  her  mighty  army  was  scattered  like  hail, 
And  the  Emperor,  the  Emperor  taken. 

Then  there  wept  together  the  grenadiers, 

The  sorrowful  story  learning ; 
And  one  said,  "Oh,  woe!"  as  the  news  he  hears, 

"How  I  feel  my  old  wound  burning!" 

The  other  said,  "  The  song  is  sung, 
And  I  wish  that  we  both  were  dying ! 

But  at  home  I've  a  wife  and  a  child — they're  young— 
On  me,  and  me  only,  relying. 

Yet  what  is  a  wife  or  a  child  to  me  ? 

Deeper  wants  all  my  spirit  have  shaken : 
Let  them  beg,  let  them  beg,  should  they  hungry  be ! 

My  Emperor,  my  Emperor  taken  ! 

But  I  beg  you,  brother,  if  by  chance 

You  soon  shall  see  me  dying, 
Then  take  my  corpse  with  you  back  to  France, — 

Let  it  ever  in  France  be  lying. 

The  cross  of  honor  with  crimson  band 
Shall  rest  on  my  heart  as  it  bound  me ; 

Give  me  my  musket  in  my  hand, 
And  buckle  my  sword  around  me. 

And  there  I  will  lie  and  listen  still, 

In  my  sentry-coffin  staying, 
Till  I  feel  the  thundering  cannon's  thrill, 

And  horses  trampling  and  neighing. 


37 


Then  my  Emperor  will  ride,  well  over  my  grave, 
Mid  sabres  bright  slashing  and  smiting  ; 

And  I'll  riso  all  weaponed  up  out  of  my  grave, — 
For  the  Emperor,  the  Emperor  fighting."* 

VII. 

THE  MESSAGE. 

TOcin  £iud;t!  ftef)'  auf  uni>  jattte  fdjnett. 

U^"OW  rise,  my  squire,  and  saddle  quick, 

Ride  fast  o'er  lea  and  lands, 
Through  greenwood  fair  and  field,  to  where 
King  Duncan's  castle  stands. 

"Then  slip  into  the  stall,  and  wait 
Till  thou  some  groom  hast  spied  ; 

And  ask  for  me,  '  Say,  who  may  be 
Of  Duncan's  daughters  bride  ?' 

"And  should  he  say,  'The  brown  girl  weds,' 
Then  bring  the  news  in  haste ; 

But  if  he  says,  '  The  light-haired  maid,' 
You  need  not  ride  so  fast. 

"  Then  go  to  Master  Ropemaker, 

And  buy  for  me  a  cord  ; 
Ride  slowly  back,  and  bring  it  me, 

And  never  speak  a  word." 


*  The  best  translation  of  this  lyric  which  I  have  met  with  is 
that  of  the  Rev.  Vf.  II.  FURXESS,  given  in  his  Gems  of  German 
Verse,  Philadelphia :  Hazard,  I860.  C.  G.  L. 


38  KOJIANCES. 

VIII. 

TAKING  HOME  THE  BRIDE. 

3dj  get)'  nidjt  nUein,  mein  fetneS  Sub'. 

UT  GO  not  alone,  my  dainty  love ; 
Away  with  me  thou'lt  wander 
To  the  dear  known,  gray  old,  dreary  retreat, 
To  the  sad,  lone,  stone-cold,  wearisome  seat, 
Where  my  mother  is  lurking  crouched  up  by  the  door, 
And  waits  till  her  son  returns  once  more." 

"  Leave  me  alone,  thou  gloomy  man  : 

Who  has  called  thee  hither  ? 

Thy  breath  is  a-glow,  thine  eyes  beam  bright, 

Thy  hand  is  snow,  and  thy  cheek  is  white, 

But  I  will  merrily  pass  the  time 

Mid  rose-perfume  in  a  sunny  clime." 

"Let  roses  breathe  perfume,  let  sunbeams  shine  on, 

My  sweetest  darling ! 

Vail  thee  in  broad-spread,  white  wavering  attire, 

Sweep  every  thread  of  the  quavering  lyre, 

And  sing  out  our  wedding  song  for  me  ; 

The  night-wind  shall  whistle  the  melody!" 

IX. 
DON  RAMIRO. 

£onna  Glara,  Tonna  Glata. 

"T\ONNA  Clara!  Donna  Clara! 

Thou  for  many  years  my  dearest, 


ROMANCES.  39 

Hast  determined  on  my  ruin, 
Caring  not  though  death  be  near  me. 

"  Donna  Clara !  Donna  Clara  ! 

Life  of  all  our  gifts  is  sweetest ; 
But  our  death's  a  grisly  spectre, 

And  the  grave  is  cold  and  cheerless. 

"Donna  Clara!  smile, — to-morrow 

Don  Fernando  at  the  altar 
Will  as  loving  bridegroom  greet  thee  : 

Bid  me  to  thy  wedding,  Clara!" 

"  Don  Ramiro!  Don  Ramiro! 

What  thou  sayest  wounds  me  sorely, — 
Deeper  than  the  cruel  sentence 

Which  the  unyielding  stars  keep  o'er  me. 

"Don  Ramiro,  Don  Ramiro, 

Cease,  oh,  cease  this  dismal  grieving: 

In  this  world  are  many  maidens ; 
God  himself  forbids  our  meeting. 

"  Don  Ramiro,  thou  who  bravely 

Many  a  Moor  in  war  hast  vanquished, 

O'er  thyself  now  gain  a  victory, 
Come  to-morrow  to  my  marriage." 

"  Donna  Clara !  Donna  Clara ! 

Yes,— I  swear  it  on  my  honor, — 
I  will  come.     We'll  dance  together. — 

Love,  good-night:  I  come  to-morrow." 


40  ROMANCES. 

"Love,  good-night!"     The  window  rattled, 
Sighing  stood  Ramiro  near  it, 

Stood  like  stone, — at  last  departed, 
In  the  darkness  disappearing. 

And  at  last,  their  combat  over, 

Morning  drives  his  foeman,  darkness, 

And  Toledo  lies  outspreading, 
Like  a  variegated  garden. 

Many  a  glorious  house  and  palace 
In  the  sunshine  brightly  glittered, 

And  the  <lomes  of  stately  churches 
Shone  in  splendor,  as  if  gilded. 

Like  a  swarm  of  bees  far  humming, 
Sound  the  festal  bells  sweet  tolling  ; 

Gently  chimes  the  choral  music, 
From  the  churches  softly  flowing. 

And  behold  how  blithely  yonder, 
Yonder  from  the  great  cathedral, 

Gay  in  tumult  and  in  turmoil, 

All  the  gorgeous  crowd  is  streaming ! 

Knights  in  armor,  graceful  ladies, 
Courtiers  ever  bowing,  smiling ; 

Organ-music  deeply  rolling, 

Church-bells  in  the  pauses  chiming. 

But  with  deep  respect  the  many 
Round  one  vacant  spot  still  wander, 

Giving  place  to  bride  and  bridegroom : 
Donna  Clara,  Don  Fernando. 


41 


To  the  bridegroom's  palace-portal 
Still  the  eager  crowd  advances ; 

Here  the  bridal  feast  commences, 
In  the  grand  old  Spanish  manner. 

Knightly  games  and  merry  banquets 
Pass  in  turn,  mid  cheers  and  laughter ; 

Hours  fly  on,  forgot  in  revelling, 
Till  the  night  falls  dark  and  darker. 

Till  the  guests  are  met  for  dancing, 
Still  the  bride  and  groom  attending ; 

Mid  a  thousand  lamps  their  garments 
Shine  in  many  colors  splendid. 

High  on  chairs  above  the  many, 
Bride  and  bridegroom  sit  together, 

Donna  Clara,  Don  Fernando, 

"\Vhispering  words  both  soft  and  gentle. 

Warlike  in  the  hall  around  them, 

All  the  glittering  guests  are  sweeping ; 

Loud  the  kettle-drums  are  ringing, 
And  the  trumpets  loudly  pealing. 

"But,  I  beg  you,  say,  my  dearest, 
Why  your  glances  are  directed 

Ever  to  the  corner  yonder  ?" 
Said  Fernando  in  amazement. 


"Who  is  that,  in  deep  black  mantle  ? 


Whose  that  form? — sav,  Don  Fernando!" 


But  the  cavalier,  loud  laughing, 


Bain,  "Whv.  that9 — 'tis  but  a  shado\ 


42  ROMANCER.  » 

But  it  was  a  human  figure. 

Slowly  came  the  cloaked  one  sweeping : 
'Twas  Ramiro.     To  him  Clara 

Blushing  gave  a  friendly  greeting. 

And  the  dance  again  beginning, 

Wilder  still  the  crowd  goes  sweeping ; 

Wilder  all  the  waltzers  Avhirling, 
Till  the  very  floor  is  creaking. 

"Very  gladly,  Don  Ramiro, 

Will  I  join  with  you  the  dancers ; 

But  you  should  not  to  my  wedding 
Come  in  such  a  night-black  mantle." 

With  a  fearful,  fixed  expression 

At  the  lady  gazed  Ramiro ; 
As  his  arm  he  wound  about  her, 

Hoarse  he  said,  "You  bade  me  hither!' 

In  the  whirling,  dancing  tumult 
Now  the  waltzing  pair  are  pressing ; 

Loud  the  kettle-drums  are  rattling, 
And  the  trumpets'  peal  is  deafening. 

"Why,  thy  cheeks  are  white  as  marble !" 
Clara  whispered,  half  in  terror. 

"It  was  you  who  bade  me  hither," 
Fell  Ramiro's  voice  in  echo. 

In  the  hall  the  torches  flicker, 

Everywhere  the  crowd  is  flowing ; 

And  the  kettle-drums  are  rattling, 
And  the  trumpets  sternly  roaring. 


110MAXCES.  43 

"  And  your  hands,  like  ice,  are  freezing!" 

Whispered  Clara,  horror-gasping; 
"It  was  you  who  bade  rno  hither  :" — 

Through  the  tumult  still  they're  dashing. 

"Leave  me,  leave  me!  Don  Ramiro! 

Corpse-like  is  thy  breath,  and  chilling;" 
And  the  hollow  voice  still  answered, 

"It  was  you  who  called  me  hither!" 

Smoke-like  seems  the  floor,  and  glowing, 

Merrily  harp  and  viol  playing  ; 
In  a  maddening,  magic  twining, 

All  things  in  the  hall  seem  fading. 

"Leave  me,  leave  me!  Don  Ramiro!" 
Closer,  wavelike  press  the  figures  ; 

Don  Ramiro  ever  answering, 

"  It  was  you  who  called  me  hither  !" 

"Then,  I  say,  in  GOD'S  name,  leave  me!" 
Clara  firmly  cried,  though  anxious  ; 

Scarcely  was  the  word  outspoken, 
When  at  once  Ramiro  vanished. 

Pale  as  death,  and  stiffly  staring, 

Lost  in  darkness,  Clara  shivered  ; 
FRANCE  had  through  her  gloomy  kingdom 

With  the  pure  white  spirit  flitted. 

Now  the  mighty  slumber  passes, 

Now  the  lids  again  are  opening ; 
But  new  wonder  pressing  on  her 

Tempts  again  those  eyes  to  closing. 


44  ROMANCES. 

For  since  first  the  dance  assembled, 
From  her  chair  she  had  not  risen  : 

She  is  sitting  by  her  bridegroom, 
And  Fernando  anxious  whispers, 

"Say,  what  pales  those  cheeks,  my  dearest? 

Why  that  ghastly  dim  expression  ?" 
"And  Eamiro  ?" — stammered  Clara, 

And  her  tongue  was  checked  with  terror. 

On  the  bridegroom's  brow  a  shadow 
Fell, — dark  thoughts  his  soul  absorbing. 

"  Lady,  probe  not  bloody  rumors : 
Don  Rarniro  died  this  morning." 

X. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

£tc  TOittmtacM  jog  natjer  fdjon; 
Sn  ftummcr  8iu(;'  lag  SBatljton. 

"jyriDNIGHT  came  slowly  sweeping  on  ; 
In  silent  rest  lay  Babylon. 

But  in  the  royal  castle  high 

Red  torches  gleam  and  courtiers  cry. 

Belshazzar  there  in  kingly  hall 
Is  holding  kingly  festival. 

The  vassals  sat  in  glittering  line, 

And  emptied  the  goblets  with  glowing  wine. 

The  goblets  rattle,  the  choruses  swell, 

And  it  pleased  the  stiff-necked  monarch  well. 


ROMANCES.  45 

In  the  monarch's  cheeks  a  wild  fire  glowed, 
And  the  wine  awoke  his  daring  mood. 

And,  onward  still  by  his  madness  spurred, 
He  blasphemes  the  LORD  with  a  sinful  word. 

And  he  brazenly  boasts,  blaspheming  wild, 
While  the  servile  courtiers  cheered  and  smiled. 

Quick  the  king  spoke,  while  his  proud  glance  burned, 
Quickly  the  servant  went  and  returned. 

He  bore  on  his  head  the  vessels  of  gold, 
Of  Jehovah's  temple  the  plunder  bold. 

With  daring  hand,  in  his  frenzy  grim, 

The  king  seized  a  beaker  and  filled  to  the  brim, 

And  drained  to  the  dregs  the  sacred  cup, 
And  foaming  he  cried,  as  he  drank  it  up, 

"Jehovah,  eternal  scorn  I  own 

To  thee.     I  am  monarch  of  Babylon." 

Scarce  had  the  terrible  blasphemy  rolled 

From  his  lips,  ere  the  monarch  at  heart  was  cold. 

The  yelling  laughter  was  hushed,  and  all 
Was  still  as  death  in  the  royal  hall. 

And  see !  and  see  !  on  the  white  wall  high 
The  form  of  a  hand  went  slowly  by, 

And  wrote, — and  wrote,  on  the  broad  wall  white, 
Letters  of  fire,  and  vanished  in  ni.slit. 


46  ROMANCES. 

Pale  as  death,  with  a  steady  stare, 

And  with  trembling  knees,  the  king  sat  there. 

The  horde  of  slaves  sat  shuddering  chill  ; 
No  word  they  spoke,  but  were  deathlike  still. 

The  Magiana  came,  but  of  them  all, 

None  could  read  the  flame-script  on  the  wall. 

But  that  same  night,  in  all  his  pride, 

By  the  hands  of  his  servants  Belshazzar  died. 

XL 
THE  MINNESINGEES. 

3u  btm 


rjlO  the  strife  of  song  forth  wending 

See  the  Minnesingers  bent  ; 
Ah  !  there  is  a  strange  contending, 
And  a  right  strange  tournament  ! 

Foaming  FANTASIE  wild  rearing 
Is  the  Minnesinger's  steed  ; 

Art  is  all  the  shield  he's  bearing, 
And  his  word  his  sword  indeed  ! 

On  the  gay-decked  terrace  flaunting, 
Lovely  dames  look  gayly  down  ; 

But  the  right  one  still  is  wanting, 
And  the  proper  laurel-crown. 

Other  warriors  when  springing 
In  the  tourney-lists  are  sound, 


47 


But  we  minstrel-knights  come  bringing 
Here  with  us  our  deadliest  wound. 

And  he  there  from  whom  comes  springing 
Blood  of  songs  from  the  heart's  deeps, 

lie  is  victor, — he  is  bringing 
Best  of  praise  to  loveliest  lips. 

XII. 

LOOKING  FROM  THE  WINDOW. 

Zer  ttcic{;e  jjcinrict)  ginj  trettci. 

T)ALE  Henry  caught  fair  Hedwig's  eye  ; 

She  never  dreamed  he'd  hear  it, 
So  said,  as  he  went  walking  by, 
"He's  white  as  any  spirit!" 

Then  Henry  raised  his  glance  above, 

Quite  longingly, — or  near  it; 
It  made  fair  Hedwig  sigh  for  love, 

And  pale  as  any  spirit. 

From  window-gazing,  days  she  stayed, 
Till  blood  no  more  could  bear  it ; 

So,  now  she  sleeps  by  him  in  bed, 
Like  any  girl  of  spirit. 

XIII. 
THE  WOUNDED  KNIGHT. 

3cfy  tteij  cine  attc  fiunte. 

T  KNOW  a  mournful  reading 
Of  a  tale  no  longer  new, 


48  ROMANCES. 

How  a  knight  in  love  lies  bleeding 
For  a  love  no  longer  true. 

Now  he  must  deem  ungrateful 
The  one  who  holds  his  heart, 

And  ho  must  hold  as  hateful 
His  love  with  bitter  smart. 

He  would  fain  in  the  lists  go  riding, 
And  call  forth  the  knights  to  strife  : 

"  Let  any  my  love  deriding 
Come  answer  the  charge  with  his  life!' 

Then  no  answer  will  be  given, 
Save  by  his  own  deep  smart ; 

So  his  lance-point  must  be  driveu 
At  his  own  accusing  heart. 

XIV. 
THE  VOYAGE. 

3$  fianb  gelcfjnet  an  ten  tUZa[!, 
Unb  jaljttc  jebe  SZBeUe. 

T  COUNTED  every  falling  wave, 

While  leaning  on  the  mast : 
Adieu,  my  own  dear  fatherland  ! 
My  ship  is  sailing  fast. 

I  sailed  before  my  dear  love's  house, 
Bright  gleamed  each  window-pane  ; 

There  is  no  sign  for  me  to-night, 
I  look  and  look  in  vain. 


Keep  from  my  eyes,  ye  bitter  tears, 

Lest  I  too  dimly  sec  ! 
And  thou,  weak  heart, — oh,  do  not  break, 

In  this  stern  agony! 

XV. 

THE  BALLAD  OF  RUE. 


QIR  Ulrich  in  the  green  wood  rifles, 
The  merry  leaves'  rustle  hearing; 
A  lovely  form  before  him  glides, 
Through  distant  branches  peering. 

The  young  knight  says,   "I  know  full  well 
That  form  all  blooming,  glowing  ; 

In  crowded  street,  in  lonely  dell, 
It  flits  where'er  I'm  going. 


"  Two  roses  are  yon  rosy  lips, 


So  fresh  and  fair  I've  seen  them  ; 


Yet  many  a  hateful  word  oft  slips 


Eight  treacherously  between  them. 


"And  so  that  mouth,  so  soft  and  sly, 

A  rose-tree  is  recalling, 
Where  poisonous  serpents,  wondrous  sly, 

'Keath  dark-green  leaves  are  crawling. 

"  Each  dimple  in  her  cheeks  engraved, 

In  wondrous  lovely  fashion, 
Are  graves  indeed,  where  as  I  raved 

I  fell  through  headlong  passion. 


50  ROMANCES. 

"And  those  fair  locks  of  flowing  hair, 
Which  float  in  dreams  around  me, 

Those  are  the  nets  so  wondrous  fair 
Wherewith  the  devil  bound  me. 

"  And  those  deep  eyes  of  heavenly  blue 
As  though  calm  fountains  drowned  them, 

I  deemed  them  heaven's  own  gates  so  true, 
The  gates  of  hell  I  found  them." 

Sir  Ulrich  through  the  green  wood  rides, 

Leaves  rustle  grimly  o'er  him  ; 
A  second  form  afar  there  glides, 

So  pale  and  sad,  before  him. 

The  young  knight  says,  "0  mother  dear, 
Whose  mother-love  would  not  leave  me, 

Though  I  with  deed  and  word  of  fear 
So  long  and  bitterly  grieved  thee. 

"Could  I  dry  those  weeping  eyes  so  meek 
With  the  burning  fire  of  sorrow, 

And  could  I,  to  redden  that  pale  white  cheek, 
The  blood  from  my  own  heart  borrow!" 

Sir  Ulrich  rides  the  forest  bound, 

Darker  the  wood  is  growing  ; 
Strange  voices  all  are  rising  round, 

The  night-wind  whispering,  flowing. 

The  young  knight  hears  his  own  sad  words, 

Repeated,  echo  o'er  him  ; 
That  was  the  mocking  wild-wood  birds, 

Who  chirruped  and  sang  before  him. 


Sir  Ulrich  on  his  way  doth  wend, 


THE  BALLAD  OF  RUE  still  sin  tun 


ind  when  he  has  sung  it  to  an  end, 


You  may  hear  him  again  begmmn 


XVI. 

TO  A  LADY  SINGER, 

AS   SHE    PAXlr    AN    OLD    BALLAD. 


"EfVEN  now,  as  when  I  first  beheld  her, 

Her  magic  seems  my  soul  to  melt ! 
How  full  of  love  was  all  her  singing, 
So  sweetly  in  my  heart  deep  ringing ! 
How  tears  into  my  eyes  came  springing, 
And  yet  I  knew  not  how  I  felt. 

A  dream  came  gently  stealing  o'er  me ; 
As  though  once  more  a  happy  child ; 
I  still  sat  by  the  small  lamp's  gleaming, 
In  mother's  dear,  kind  room  a-dreaming, 
Reading  a  tale  with  wonders  teeming, 
While  dark  without  the  storm  blew  wild. 

A  real  life  stole  o'er  the  story, 
Old  knights  came  rising  from  the  grave; 
At  Roncesvalles  was  gallant  fighting ! 
On  rode  brave  Roland,  death  inviting  ; 
Bold  knights  around  him  sternly  smiting 
And  Ganelon, — alas! — the  knave! 


52  ROMANCES. 

By  him  to  sad  death-sleep  came  Roland, 
Gasping  in  blood  at  life's  extreme. 
Scarce  could  his  bugle-notes  far  pealing 
Reach  Charlemagne  o'er  wide  leagues  stealing 
Now  he  lies  dead, — devoid  of  feeling  ; — 
And  with  him  dies  away  my  dream. 

Then  came  a  loud  bewildering  clamor, 
Away,  away  the  visions  sweep  : 
The  legend  vanished  mid  a  rapping, 
The  audience  their  hands  were  clapping, 
And  loud  their  cries  of  brava!  snapping; 
The  lovely  singer  courtsied  deep. 

XVII. 
SONG  OF  THE  DUCATS. 

TOetnc  giiltencn  Sufatcn, 
S.i.jt,  ivo  (ctt  ilit  Ijmjcviitijcn? 

f\  MY  golden  ducats  !  say, 

Whither  are  you  gone  away  ? 

Arc  ye  with  the  golden  fishes 
Who  in  the  river  gayly  thriving 
Up  go  leaping,  down  go  diving  ? 

Are  ye  with  the  golden  flowers 

Which  on  the  green  vale,  sweet  to  view, 

Glitter  clear  in  morning  dew  ? 

Are  ye  with  the  golden  birdlings 

Which,  through  sun-rays  web-like  twining, 

Sweeping  in  the  blue  go  shining  ? 


ROMANCES.  53 

Arc  ye  with  the  golden  planets, 
To  the  constellations  given, 
Smiling  every  night  from  heaven  ? 

Ah,  my  glittering  ducats  golden, 

In  the  waves  ye  do  not  swim, 

On  the  greensward  do  not  gleam, 

In  blue  air  ye  do  not  sweep, 

Nor  glittering  smile  from  heaven  deep  ; 

For  my  creditors* — good  cause  ! — 

Hold  you  tightly  in  their  claws. 

XVIII. 

DIALOGUE  ON  THE  PADERBORN  HEATH. 

$l'rft  2u  ni*t  tie  fctneit  Xcne? 

"  TTEAR'ST  thou  not  far  music  ringing, 

Viol  sweet,  and  organ  sounding  ? 
Many  a  lovely  form  is  springing 
In  yon  elf-dance  flitting,  bounding." 

*  Sttctne  OTanidiaer,  trauit ! 

£aften  (£itd)  tit  itrert  jtlau'n, 

"Manichaer."  At  the  German  universities  creditors  or  duns 
are  tunned  Manichseans,  after  the  well-known  sect  of  that  name. 
Tht1  term  of  reproach  was  evidently  borrowed  at  an  early  age, 
wli'Tj  much  was  said  in  theological  lectures  against  heretics.  Tho 
student  legend  is  that  the  Manichaoans  were  Persian  Magi,  who 
were  importunate  in  collecting  the  money  due  them  for  exercis 
ing  their  art. 

,,?npt  tie  OTiiitidiacr  immer  Kopfert, 
3d)  tferricvjle  meine  Stutcntfcur'; 
Xer  ©eftanf  vcn  fuldjcit  SOietcfjcpfen 
item  in  t  ten  3}urfd)Cit  flan;  vcrteiifelt  fiir." 


ROMANCES. 

"How,  my  friend?  your  mind  must  wander, 
Or  my  hearing's  strangely  blunted : 

I  can  hear  no  fiddling  yonder  ; 
Only  swine  which  just  now  grunted." 

"Hear'st  thou  not  the  bugle  pealing? 

Hunters  blithe  through  greenwood  straying, 
Lambs  I  see  o'er  meadows  stealing, 

Shepherds  on  their  reed  pipes  playing." 

"  Ah,  my  friend,  your  ears  are  humming : 
There's  no  pipe  or  bugle  pealing; 

I  but  see  a  swineherd  coming, 

And  before  him  pigs  a-squealing." 

"  Hear'st  thou  not  melodious  measure, 

As  a  strife  of  voices  singing? 
Angels  hear  it,  rapt  in  pleasure, 

Beating  time  on  pinions  swinging." 

"That  which  seemed  to  you  so  pleasant 
Was  no  heavenly  minstrels'  striving  ; 

Friend,  it's  just  a  little  peasant 
Singing  as  his  geese  he's  driving !" 

"  Hear'st  thou  church-bells  as  if  talking, 
Sweetly,  strangely,  wildly  flowing? 

See  the  congregation  walking, 
Calmly  to  the  chapel  going !" 

"Ah,  my  friend,  it's  but  the  tinkling 
From  the  distant  cow-bells  given, 

As  the  kine,  by  starlight  twinkling, 
Slowly  to  their  stalls  are  driven." 


55 


"See  yon  fluttering  veil, — oh,  wonder! 

See, — a  beckoning  form  advances  ! 
"Tis  my  loved  one  standing  yonder, 

Tearful  sorrow  in  her  glances !" 

"Ah,  my  friend,  she  who  approaches 
Is  Old  Liz,  from  the  wood's  shadow ; 

Pale  and  tottering  on  her  crutches, 
She  goes  limping  towards  the  meadow. 

"Smile,  dear  friend,  that  so  I  borrow 
Forms  for  such  fantastic  seeming  : 

Oh  that  all  my  heart's  deep  sorrow 
Thou  couldst  turn  to  idle  dreaming !" 


XIX. 

LIFE-GREETING. 

[AN  ALBUM-LEAF.] 
(?ine  flrefse  Sanfcfttafi'  ift  unferc  Grb'. 

rpIIIS  earth  of  ours  is  a  great  highway, 
We  mortals  are  passengers  greeting; 
We  hurry  on  horseback  or  foot  all  day, 
Like  runners  or  couriers  fleeting. 

We  pass  each  other,  we  nod  and  we  twist, 
Waving  handkerchiefs  from  the  wagon ; 

We  had  gladly  embraced  or  had  gladly  kissed, 
But  the  horses  their  loads  must  drag  on. 


56  ROMANCES. 

We  scarce  at  one  station  each  other  knew, 
Alexander,  dear  prince  and  brother, 

Ere  loud  the  postilion  his  bugle  blew, 
And  blew  us  away  from  each  other. 

XX. 

NO,  INDEED! 

SBenn  ber  gtiitjling  fommt  mit  bcm  2cnnenict;ctn. 

"ITTHEN  spring  is  coming  with  sun-rays  bright, 

Budding  and  blooming  each  floweret  creeps ; 
While  the  moon  o'er  her  course  of  glory  sweeps, 
And  the  stars  swim  after  in  floods  of  light ; 
When  the  poet  sees  two  sweet  eyes  aglow, 
From  his  deepest  soul  the  songs  out- flow  ; — 
But  songs  and  stars  and  pleasant  flowers, 
And  eyes  and  moon-glearns  and  sunny  hours, 
Much  as  this  stuff  may  please  us  all, 
Don't  go  far  to  make  up  this  earthly  ball. 


TO  A.  W.  VON  SCIILEGEL. 


TN  wide-hooped  dress  and  flowers  of  gaudy  bright 
ness, 

With  well-rouged  cheeks,  and  beauty-spots,  well- 
scented, 

In  pointed  shoes  with  broidery  ornamented, 
With  high  head-dress,  and  laced  to  wasp-like  tight 

ness, 
So  seemed  the  Mock-Muse,  in  rococo  fashion, 

Seeking  thy  warm  embraces  when  she  saw  thee  ; 

But  from  her  path  thou  quickly  didst  withdraw  thee, 
And  wandered  on,  driven  by  dreaming  passion. 
In  the  wild  waste  a  tower  thou  didst  discover, 

And,  like  a  fair  white  statue  in  its  keeping, 

A  lovely  maid  in  magic  spells  lay  sleeping; 
But  the  charm  vanished  at  thy  kiss,  0  rover  ! 
The  real  German  muse  woke  to  her  lover, 

And  sank  into  thy  arms,  with  rapture  weeping. 


58 


TO  MY  MOTHER,  B.  HEINE, 

NE'E   VON   GELDERN. 
I. 

3d)  bin's  geteitynt,  fcm  Rctf  vcdjt  l;cd)  ju  tra.icn. 

TT  is  my  wont  my  head  right  high  to  carry, 
Impatiently  the  slightest  crosses  bearing  : 
If  the  king's  self  into  my  eyes  were  staring, 

My  gaze  upon  his  own  as  long  would  tarry. 

But,  mother  dear,  I  do  confess  before  you, 
Whatever  puffed-up  pride  comes  on  me  stealing, 
In  your  sweet  presence  I  do  lose  that  feeling, 

And  then  a  trembling  diffidence  falls  o'er  me : 
Is  it  your  soul  with  mine  all  strangely  blending, 
Your  higher  soul  all  things  before  it  bending, 
In  lightning  gleams  upwards  to  heaven  tending? 

Does  memory  torture  me  because  I  proved  you 

With  many  a  deed  which  once  so  sadly  moved  you, 

Moved  that  dear  heart  which  ever  dearly  loved  me  ? 

II. 

3m  totten  JSafyn  fiatt'  idj  Sid)  cinft  tfeiLiffen. 

TN  wild  delusion  from  thy  side  once  turning, 

I  wished  to  roam  at  will  the  whole  world  over ; 

I  wished  to  see  if  love  would  greet  the  rover, 
And  quench  with  Love  the  Love  within  me  burning. 
Through  every  street  I  sought,  false  Hope  beguiling, 

At  every  gate  I  stretched  my  hands  in  sorrow ; 

Not  the  least  love-gift  could  I  beg  or  borrow, — 
They  only  gave  me  hate,  cold  hate,  while  smiling. 


S03TXETS.  f>0 

So  ever  on  I  went  for  Love,  and  ever, 

And  still  for  Love,  yet  Love  approached  mo  never, 
And  so  turned  home  again,  all  sick  in  sorrow. 

Then  thou  didst  come  to  me  with  eyes  all  beaming; 

And,  oh,  what  was  it  in  those  dear  eyes  gleaming 
But  the  sweet  longed-for  Love  I  could  not  borrow  ? 


TO  II.  S. 


T  OPED  thy  book  in  haste,  and,  lo,  before  me 

There    strangely    swept    familiar    forms    long 

banished, 
The  golden  pictures  which  for  years  had  vanished, 

That  in  my  boyhood's  dreams  and  days  swept  o'er  me. 

Again  I  see,  proudly  to  heaven  up-raying, 
The  good  cathedral,  built  by  faith  availing, — 
By  German  faith, — and  hear  a  sweet  love-wailing 

Amid  the  tones  of  bells  and  organ  playing. 

I  see  right  well,  too,  on  the  temple  tripping, 
The  daring  dwarfs  go  hammering  and  shaking, 
The  lovely  tracery  and  flower- work  breaking; 

But  though  men  work  for  aye,  the  old  oak  stripping, 
Of  all  their  verdant  spoil  his  limbs  bereaving, 
When    the    spring    comes,  afresh    ye'll  find  him 
leaving. 


CO 

FRESCO  SONNETS  TO  CHRISTIAN  SETIIE. 
1, 

3d)  ianj'  md;t  mit,  id)  taudj'tc  ni*t  tctt  JtU'tjen. 

T  DANCE  not  with,  I  worship  not,  that  rabble 
Who  are  all  gold  without,  within  all  sand ; 

I'm  not  urbane  when  a  knave  holds  out  his  hand, 
Who  secretly  my  name  with  filth  would  dabble ; 
Nor  do  I  bow  to  those  fair  dames  who  drabble 

Their  names  with  pride  through  all  the  shame  i' 
the  land. 

I  drag  no  burdens  when  the  mob  hath  spanned 
Its  idol's  chariot  with  acclaiming  gabble. 

I  know  the  oak  must  on  the  ground  be  lying, 

While  the  brook-reed  once  bent  goes  upward  Hying, 
After  the  storm,  elastic  as  before. 
And  yet  what  is  the  reed  when  all  is  o'er  ? 

How  lucky !  first  as  cane  it  serves  some  dandy, 

Then  to  dust  clothes  his  boot-black  finds  it  handy. 


©iefc'  $et  Me  tavto'  —  id)  ttnft  mid;  jcfct  tuaSJircn. 

me  that  mask, — for  masked  I'll  cross  the 
border 

Of  Rascaldom,  that  rascals  with  me  walking, 
Who  splendidly  "in  character"  go  stalking, 
May  not  imagine  I  am  of  their  order. 
Of  vulgar  words  and  modes  I'll  be  recorder, 

Like  the  vile  mob,  in  their  own  language  talking  ; 
Bright  gems  of  wit  no  more  will  I  go  hawking, 
Such  as  each  coxcomb  sports  in  gay  disorder. 


(it 

So  through  the  great  masked  ball  I  will  go  bounding 
Mid  German  knights,   monks,   monarchs  high  re 
spected, 
Greeted  by  harlequins, — by  none  detected, — 

Their  swords  of  lath  upon  my  jacket  sounding. 
And  there's  the  joke.     If  off  my  mask  were  taken, 
With  what  still  horror  would  the  pack  be  shaken  ! 


3d)  UJ)c  c6  ten  atgcicfjmacttcn  Saffcn. 

T  OUDLY  I  laugh  at  the  dry,  soulless  flunkey 

Who  stares  around  him  with  his  goat-grimaces ; 
I  laugh  at  the  tyros,  too,  with  sober  faces, 
Snuffling  and  piping  ever  on  their  one  key; 
I  laugh,  too,  at  the  over-learned  monkey, 

Who  vaunts  himself  a  judge  of  all  the  graces  ; 
I  laugh  at  the  coward,  iron-headed  donkey, 

Who  threatens  poisoned  steel,  and  all  disgraces  ! 
When  Fortune's  seven  fair  gifts  are  gone,  and  after 
We  see  how  Fate's  grim  threatening  finger  quivers, 
The  last  dear  fragments  ruined  round  us  lying, 
And  when  the  very  heart  within  is  dying, 
Dying  and  hacked  and  torn  to  wretched  shivers, 
What  then  remains  save  broad  and  bitter  laughter  ? 

4. 

2m  §trn  fpudft  in  it  tin  HJaftcfjeit  isunfcctfctn. 

1\TY  brain  is  haunted  by  a  legend  rare, 

And  in  the  tale  a  wondrous  ballad  rings, 
And  in  the  song  there  lives  and  blooms  and  springs 
A  wondrous  winsome  little  maiden  fair. 


62  SONNETS. 

And  the  maid  with  her  a  small  heart,  too,  brings  ; 
But  ah,  that  heart!  no  love  is  glowing  there; 
In  that  cold  soul,  frosty  beyond  compare, 
Grim  Pride  alone,  or  more  than  Pride,  still  sings : 
Hear  how  it  hums  in  my  head,  this  noisy  wonder ! 
How  my  brain  beats,  as  though  'twould  rend  my 

forehead ! 

And  how  the  maiden  titters,  as  if  playing ! 
I  only  fear  my  head  may  burst  asunder ; 

And,  oh ! — but  then  the  very  thought  is  horrid, — 
What  if  my  mind  from  its  beaten  track  went  straying ! 


3n  flitter,  ftefjmvitfitrctcfjct  SHbenbftunbe. 

HEN  still  soft  evening  hours  are  sadly  going, 

And    long-forgotten    songs  blend   with   my 
dreaming, 

And  tears  adown  my  cheeks  again  are  streaming, 
And  from  my  old  heart's  wound  the  blood  comes 

flowing, 

And  when,  as  in  a  magic  mirror  gleaming, 
I  see  HER  form  slowly  to  likeness  growing, 
In  a  red  bodice  at  her  table  sewing, 
All  in  her  happy  sphere  so  silent  seeming, — 
When  suddenly  she  from  her  chair  upspringing 
Cuts  from  her  locks  the  loveliest  of  tresses, 
And  gives  it  me, — the  rapture  half  distresses  ; 
But,  oh,  the  devil  comes,  his  torture  bringing ; 
From  those  fair  hairs  a  binding  rope  he's  twisted, 
And  now  for  years  has  dragged  me  as  he  listed. 


63 


51 U  id)  tct  cincm  Jaf;t  Si^  tttefcerfclitfte. 

"\YTIIEX  I  saw  thee  again  in  last  year's  meeting, 
Thou  didst  not  kiss  a  welcome  on  that  day!" 

As  I  said  this,  my  love,  in  pretty  play, 
With  sweetest  kiss  gave  to  my  lips  a  greeting, 
Then  plucked — an  instant  from  my  side  retreating — 

A  myrtle-twig  which  in  the  window  lay : 

"Take  this,"  she  said,  "plant  it  without  delay, 
And  place  a  glass  on  it." — Oh,  love-gift  fleeting! 
'Twas  all  long,  long  ago.  The  twig  is  dead  ; 

For  years  I  have 'not  seen  the  maid  I  wooed  ; 
And  yet  the  kiss  burns  wildly  in  my  head  ; 
And  lately  from  afar  it  drove  me  on 

To  where  she  dwells.     Before  the  house  I  stood, 
The  whole  night  long,  nor  left  till  morning  shone. 


7. 

£itt   Jtdj,  tncln  gteunb,  tor  grimmcn  IcitfcUjrafcen. 

"DEWARE,  my  friend,  of  devilish  grins  and  glaring, 
Yet  worse  are  the  soft  smiles  of  angel-hussies  ; 

One  offered  me  of  late  the  sweetest  busses, 
But  when  she  came  I  felt  sharp  claws  and  daring. 
Beware,  too,  of  old  cats,  spitting  and  swearing. 

And     yet    much    worse    are    snow-white    tender 
pussies : 

I  caught  one  late  for  a  pet,  with  cunning  ruses, 
But  soon  my  Pussy  at  my  heart  was  tearing. 
0  honey  hussy, — beautiful  offender  ! 


64  SONNETS. 

How  could  thy  glances  for  my  love  so  angle? 

How  could  thy  pretty  paws  my  heart  so  mangle? 
0  pussy-Katrine's  pretty  paws  so  tender, 
Oh,  I  would  kiss  thee,  love,  without  receding, 
Though  all  the  while  my  heart  were  clawed  and 
bleeding. 


Eu  Wft  inic!)  eft  tm  tfamf  j  mit  jcncn  ccHinjjcln. 

rpHOU'ST    seen   me   oft    with   knaves   in   alterca 
tion, 

With  puppies  spectacled  and  tabbies  painted, 

Who  my  good  name  have  any  thing  but  sainted, 
Or  rather  sought  to  sink  it  to  damnation. 
Thou  saw'st  me  bored  by  pedants'  affectation, 

How  fools  their  caps   and  bells  came  round  me 
rattling, 

How   poisonous    serpents    round  my   heart   were 

battling, 

And  how  it  bled  till  courage  well-nigh  fainted. 
But  thou  wert  ever  firm,  like  a  great  tower; 
Thy  head  my  beacon  was  in  the  stormy  hour, 

Thy  trusty  heart  a  haven  safe  and  sure  ; 
'Tis  true,  wild  storms  around  that  port  are  flying, 
And  few  the  ships  within  its  shelter  lying, 

But  he  who  once  is  there  may  rest  secure. 


65 


Jjcf)  mS(f;te  trcincn,  tctf)  id)  faun  eJ  ntd;t. 

T  WOULD  be  weeping,  yet  I  cannot  weep  ; 

I  fain  would  bravely  far  on  high  go  springing, 
And  yet  can  not;  to  the  ground  I  must  be  clinging, 
"\Vhile  serpents  vile  around  me  hiss  and  creep ; 
And  faiu  would  I  over  them  all  go  sweep, 

That  light  of  life,  rny  love,  to  glory  bringing, 
In  her  all-blessed  breath  my  own  life  flinging. 
It  cannot  be  :  my  heart  is  rent  too  deep  ; 
And  from  the  wounds  I  feel  all  freely  ilowing 

My  hot  life's-blood.  I  faint  in  earth's  damp  mea 
dows  ; 

'Tis  dark, — and  darker, — as  in  nightmare-trances, 
And  silent  shuddering  I  cast  my  glances 
To  the  far  realm  of  Clouds,  where  quiet  shadows 
Their  soft  dim  arms  with  love  arc  round  me  throw- 


"y:    1822-1823.   i,. 
PROLOGUE. 

<St  wat  'mat  tin  iRittct,  triibicUjj  unb  (tumm. 

once  was  a  knight,  sad  and  silent  was  lie, 
With  pale  cheeks,  and  eyeballs  deep  buried, 
Who  went  awkwardly  stumbling  with  tottering  knee, 

In  dreams  or  in  brown  studies  buried. 
So  wooden,  so  clumsy,  of  grace  all  bereft, 
The  flowers  and  the  maidens  all  laughed  right  and 

left 
WThen  past  them  he  blundering  hurried. 

Oft  he  sat  in  the  gloomiest  corner  at  home, 

Before  men  he  was  silent  and  fluttered, 
And  yearned  with  stretched  arms,  as  for  some  one  to 

come, 

Yet  scarcely  a  syllable  muttered  : 
But  when  midnight  had  fallen  o'er  the  sorrowful  man, 
A  strange  musical  ringing  and  singing  began, 
And  a  tapping  with  whispering  soft  uttered. 
66 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  67 

And  in  gently  gliding  his  love  met  his  sight, 
In  soft  rustling  foam-garments  gleaming, 

Blowing  and  glowing  like  rose-leaves  in  light, 
Her  veil  with  fair  star-jewels  beaming; 

Gold  ringlets  at  will  round  her  slender  form  play, 

Her  eyes  greet  his  own,  and  he  owns  their  sweet  sway : 
They  embrace, — he  no  longer  is  dreaming. 

With  love-might  he  holds  her,  his  fears  are  all  fled, 
Eight  bravely  the  Dull  One  is  glowing ; 

The  Dreamer  awakes,  and  the  Pale  One  is  red, 
And  the  Timid  a  bold  one  is  growing. 

But  now  by  his  love  he  is  roguishly  mocked  ; 

His  head  she  has  covered  and  merrily  locked 

With  her  diamond-starred,  white  veil  long  flowing. 

In  a  crystalline  palace,  deep  under  the  sea, 
The  good  knight  enchanted  is  straying ; 

He  stares  in  wild  wonder,  and  scarcely  can  see, 
For  the  splendor  and  glory  bright  raying. 

But  the  Nixie  in  love  holds  him  fast  to  her  side, 

The  knight  is  a  bridegroom,  the  Nixie  is  bride, 
And  her  maidens  the  cithern  are  playing. 

They're  playing  and  singing,  and  singing  so  well, 
Ah !  who  in  that  wild  dance  is  fleetest  ? 

The  knight  is  half  giddy,  his  heart  seems  to  swell, 
And  more  firmly  he  clings  to  the  Sweetest, 

When  sudden  a  darkness  o'er  all  seems  to  come, 

And  the  good  knight  again  sits  so  lonely  at  home 
In  his  close  little  poet's  chamber ! 
6 


68  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 


3m  Irunberfcffcncn  STicncit  OTai. 

TN  the  wondrous  lovely  month  of  May, 

When  all  the  buds  were  blowing, 
All  in  my  heart  one  morning 
I  felt  that  Love  was  flowing. 

All  in  the  loveliest  month,  in  May, 
When  bird-pipes  all  were  going, 

I  went  to  her,  confessing 
The  deep  love  in  me  growing. 


StuS  nuinen  Ifircitun  (fricficn 
SJiet  fclufjenbe  Slumen  Ijetrcr. 

TTP  from  my  tears  are  growing 
Fair  flowers  in  many  vales, 
And  from  my  sighs  go  flying 
A  choir  of  nightingales. 

And  if  thou  dost  love  me,  darling, 

I  will  give  thee  all  the  flowers, 
And  the  nightingales  at  thy  window 

Shall  sing  through  summer  hours. 

3. 

SHe  9to(c,  bic  SMtic,  bic  Icnifrf,  bic  Scnrtc. 

OK.  the  dove  or  the  sun,  rose  or  lily  sweet  growing, 
For  all  in  love's  rapture  I  once  was  deep  glowing ; 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  69 

Thou  lov'st  them  no  more, — for  her  only  thou  carest, 
The  rarest,  the  fairest,  the  purest,  the  dearest ; 
She  only,  fount  of  all  love  flowing, 
Is  the  dove  and  the  sun,  rose  and  lily  sweet  growing. 


4. 

S3cnn  id)  in  Seine  Stugcn  jet)'. 

T^TIIENE'ER  into  thine  eyes  I  see, 

All  pain  and  sorrow  fly  from  mo ; 
But  when  again  I  kiss  thy  mouth, 
Then  I  am  strong  and  full  of  youth. 

And  when  I  lean  upon  thy  breast, 
The  joys  of  heaven  in  me  rest; 
But  when  thou  sayest,  "I  love  thee!" 
Then  I  must  weep,  and  bitterly. 


5. 

?em  ?tngeftd;t  fo  ticb  ttnb  fction. 

face  which  ever  fair  did  seem 
I  saw  but  lately  in  a  dream, 
Sweet  as  if  clad  in  angel's  veil, 
And  yet  so  pale,  so  sadly  pale. 

Thy  lips  alone  are  red  to-night ; 
But  Death  ere  long  must  kiss 'them  white, 
And  quenched  will  be  the  rays  divino 
Which  in  thy  gentle  glances  shine. 


70  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 


Se^n'  Xcinc  SBang'  an  mctne  Sang'. 

C^H,  lay  thy  cheek  against  my  cheek, 

Let  the  tears  in  one  stream  go  flowing  ; 
And  to  my  heart  press  firm  thy  heart, 
Let  the  flames  be  together  glowing  ! 

And  when  the  stream  of  our  tears  shall  have  flown 

On  that  wild  fire  hotly  burning, 
And  when  my  arms  round  thee  are  thrown, 

I  shall  die  for  pure  love-yearning. 

7. 

3d;  mitt  meine  <2eelc  ttntdjen. 

T  WILL  pour  all  my  soul's  deep  feeling 

In  the  cup  of  the  lily,  like  wine  ; 
And  the  lily  shall  breathe,  soft  pealing, 
A  lay  of  the  loved  one  mine. 

The  song  shall  go  trembling  and  thrilling 

With  all  that  kiss's  power, 
The  kiss  which  she  gave  so  willing 

In  the  tenderest,  sweetest  hour. 


<Si  ftclicn  unfcelrctjlicf) 
£i£  Eterne  in  fcer  £clj', 

SHel  Saiifcnb  Sat)*',  unb  fcljautu 
€ici)  an  mil  Siebc8>vc^. 


T 


HE  stars  have  stood  unmovim 
Thousands  of  years  above, 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  71 

Each  gazing  on  the  other 
In  the  fond  pain  of  love. 

They  speak  a  copious  language, 

The  sweetest  ever  heard  ; 
Yet  none  of  all  the  linguists 

Can  speak  of  it  a  word. 

Yet  I  right  well  have  learned  it, 

Through  every  tense  and  case  ; 
And  the  grammar  of  my  study 

Was  my  heart's  own  dearest's  face. 


Sluj  glitgcln  bea  GcfcingcS. 

/"\N  the  wings  of  song  far  sweeping, 

Heart's  dearest,  with  me  thou'lt  go 
Away  where  the  Ganges  is  creeping: 
Its  loveliest  garden  I  know, — 

A  garden  where  roses  are  burning 
In  the  moonlight  all  silent  there  ; 

Where  the  lotus-flowers  are  yearning 
For  their  sister  beloved  and  fair. 

The  violets  titter,  caressing, 

Peeping  up  as  the  planets  appear, 

And  the  roses,  their  warm  love  confessing, 
Whisper  words,  soft-perfumed,  to  each  ear. 

And,  gracefully  lurking  or  leaping, 
The  gentle  gazelles  come  round  ; 


72  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

While  afar,  deep  rushing  and  sweeping, 
The  waves  of  the  Ganges  sound. 

We'll  lie  there,  in  slumber  sinking 
'Neath  the  palm-trees  by  the  stream, 

Eapture  and  rest  deep  drinking, 
Dreaming  the  happiest  dream. 

10. 

J5ie  SotoSilume  (ingftigt 
Stdj  bet  bte  Senne  S£racf)t, 

Unb  mit  geienftem  §au))te 
grloattet  fie  bte  SJacijt. 

rpHE  lotus-blossom  suffers 

In  the  sun's  splendid  light ; 
And,  with  her  head  declining, 
She  is  waiting  for  the  night. 

The  moon  is  her  own  lover  ; 

He  wakes  her  with  his  rays, 
And,  her  flower-face  unveiling, 

She  sweetly  meets  his  gaze. 

She  glows  and  blows,  white-beaming, 
Looks  silent  on  high  again, 

Perfuming  and  weeping  and  trembling 
In  love  and  love's  sweet  pain.* 


*  She  blooms,  and  glows,  and  glistens, 

And  gazes  calmly  above ; 
She  sighs,  and  weeps,  and  trembles 
From  love  and  the  pain  of  love. 

Translated  by  "II.  K. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  73 

11. 

3m  SJfcctn,  tm  jdiimeit  Strome. 

TN  the  Rhine,  in  the  glorious  river, 

Reflected  as  waves  roll  on, 
With  its  high  cathedral  ever, 
Lies  the  holy,  great  Cologne. 

In  that  church  a  picture  o'er  me 

Hangs,  on  golden  leather  traced : 
Often  it  has  shone  before  me 

Like  a  light  in  life's  dark  waste. 

Angels  and  flowers  tremble 

In  joy  round  our  Lady  above ; 
Her  eyes,  lips,  and  cheeks  resemble 

Exactly  the  faco  of  my  love. 


12. 

2u  liefcft  m\iS)  tUcSt,  £u  licfft  mi*)  ntdjt. 

"V"OU  love  me  not,  you  love  me  not; 

"With  that  I'm  not  tormented  ; 
For  I  am  happy  every  jot 
On  you  to  gaze  contented. 

You  hate  me,  oh,  you're  hating  mo  ; 

Such  is  your  red  mouth's  story  : 
Oh,  hold  it  out  to  kisses  free, 

And  I  shall  pant  in  glory. 


74  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

13. 

Tit  tcllft  mid)  lictcub  umfdjlteijcn 
OelicHeS,  jdjctteS  S3ei6. 

/^OME,  twine  in  wild  rapture  round  me, 

Fair  woman  beloved  and  warm, 
Till  thy  feet  and  arms  have  bound  me 
And  I'm  wreathed  with  thy  supple  form  ! 


She  has  twined  with  strength  enraptured, 
Her  folds  are  all  round  me  thrown  ; 

And  the  fairest  of  snakes  has  captured 
The  happiest  Laocoon. 


14. 

D  fdjirorc  nidjt,  imb  fiiffe  nur, 

(~)H,  do  not  vow,  but  only  kiss, 

For  I  no  woman's  oath  believe ! 
Thy  words  are  sweet,  but  sweeter  is 

The  kiss  which  I  from  thee  receive ! 
For  that  I  have,  in  that  I've  faith ; 
All  words  are  idle  mist  and  breath. 


Oh,  swear,  my  dearest, — for  I  think 
All  true  while  panting  on  thy  breast ! 

When  raptured  in  its  charms  I  sink, 
I  do  believe — that  I  am  blest ; 

Believe  that  all  eternally, 

And  longer  still,  thou'lt  love  but  me  ! 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

15. 

SIuj  meinet  §crj'lictftcn  Slcujclein. 

TTPON  my  darling's  lovely  eyes 

Sweet  canzonets  I've  written, 
And  on  that  mouth  I  dearly  prize 

The  best  of  terze  rime, 
And  on  those  cheeks  where  rose-bloom  lies 

A  brave  array  of  stanzas  ; 
And  had  she  a  heart  as  well  as  a  head, 
Long  ago  a  Bonnet  I  on  it  had  made. 


16. 

2Me  Sett  ift  tumm,  tie  Sell  ift  blinb. 

rpHE  world's  a  fool,  the  world  is  blind, 

And  grows  simple  to  aggravation  : 
It  says  of  thee,  dear  —  nay,  never  mind  !  — 
Thou  hast  lost  thy  reputation  ! 

The  world  is  stupid,  the  world  is  blind, 
And  justice  it  never  will  do  thee  : 

It  knows  not  how  sweet  are  thy  kisses  kind, 
Or  how  rapture  goes  quivering  through  thee. 


17. 


TT\REAMY  phantoms,  fair  and  fleeting, 
From  the  poet's  brain  oft  run 


76  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

When  the  summer  days  are  heating : — 
Dearest,  art  thou  such  a  one  ? 

And — yet  no.     A  mouth  so  smiling, 
Eyes  where  such  a  magic  played, 

Such  a  dainty  thing,  beguiling 
Poet  never  yet  hath  made. 

Vampires,  basilisks,  and  terrors, 
Dragons  which  by  lindens  crawl, 

Monsters  bred  of  lies  and  errors, 
Poets  truly  made  them  all. 

But  that  mouth  where  mischief  dances, 
And  thyself,  and  winning  face, 

And  thy  treacherous  gentle  glances, — 
Poet  never  dreamed  such  grace. 


18. 

SSte  bie  S3eUenfd;aumge6ctene. 

T  IKE  the  foam-born  of  the  waters, 

Gleams  my  love  in  beauty's  pride 
But  that  fairest  of  earth's  daughters 
Is  a  stranger's  chosen  bride. 

Heart,  keep  patience ;  never  lose  it ; 

Murmur  not  that  thou'rt  betrayed ; 
Bear  it,  bear  it,  and  excuse  it 

To  the  lovely,  stupid  maid. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  77 

19. 

3dj  groUe  nidjt,  unb  ttjenn  fcaS  $crj  audj  tridjt. 

T  WILL  be  patient,  though  my  heart  should  break, 

Thou  love  forever  lost!  no  plaint  I'll  make. 
But  though  thou  glitterest  in  diamonds  bright, 
There  falls  no  gleam  into  thy  heart's  deep  night. 

I  saw't  in  dreams,  I  knew  it  long  ago  ; 
I  saw  the  night  through  thy  heart's  chambers  flow  ; 
I  saw  the  snake  which  gnaws  upon  thy  heart  ; 
I  saw,  my  love,  how  wretched  still  thou  art. 


20. 

3a,  2u  lift  clcnb,  itnb  idj  gtettc  nid;t. 

~\7"ES,  thou  art  wretched,  but  I'll  not  complain  ; 

My  love,  together  we  will  wretched  be  ! 
Until  death  breaks  the  heart  long  sick  with  pain, 
My  love,  together  we  will  wretched  be  ! 

I  see  the  scorn  which  oft  thy  lip  repeats, 
I  see  defiance  flashing  from  thine  eye, 

I  see  the  pride  which  in  thy  bosom  beats  :  — 
Yet  thou  art  wretched,  wretched  e'en  as  I. 

Thy  lips  show  agonies  unseen  around, 

And  hidden  tears  in  those  bright  eyes  I  see  ; 

Thy  haughty  bosom  hides  a  secret  wound: 
My  love,  my  love,  we  both  will  wretched  be! 


78  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 


~\7" 


21. 

aS  ift  ctn  glbten  unb  Gcigcn. 

IOL  and  flute  are  sounding, 

And  trumpet-tones  entwine  ; 
And  in  the  bride-dance  bounding 
Goes  that  heart's  love  of  mine. 

There  is  a  ringing  and  groaning 
Of  drums  and  trumpets  deep  ; 

Between  there's  a  sobbing  and  moaning 
Of  angels  who  sorrowing  weep. 


Co  tjaft  lit  ganj  unb  g.tr  tcr.icficn. 

QO  you  have  forgotten  altogether 

That  I  held  your  heart  so  long  in  tether, — 
Your  heart  so  sweet  and  so  false  and  so  wee  ? 
A  sweeter  and  falser  one  nowhere  can  be. 

And  I  ask  of  the  love  and  long  suffering  whether 
You  think  how  they  pressed  my  heart  together  ; 
I  know  not  if  love  were  greater  than  woe, 
But  that  both  were  too  great  for  me  well  do  I  know 

23. 

ttnb  leujjtcn'3  He  SMumcn,  He  fleincn. 

A  ND  if  the  small  flowers  but  knew  it, 

How  deep  are  the  wounds  of  my  heart, 
Weeping  with  me  they  would  rue  it, 
To  heal  all  my  pain  and  smart. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  79 

And  had  the  nightingales  feeling 

Of  my  weariness  and  grief, 
Their  songs  would  come  gayly  pealing 

To  give  my  pain  relief. 

And  if  the  stars  in  heaven 

My  sufferings  could  know, 
Their  light  would  soon  be  given 

To  mitigate  my  woe. 

But  none  of  them  can  know  it; 

One  only  knows  my  pain  ; 
And  she  who  alone  could  do  it 

lias  rent  my  heart  in  twain. 


24. 


"YKTliY  are  the  roses  so  pale  of  line, 

Oh,  tell  me,  dearest,  why? 
Why  in  the  grass  fresh  bathed  in  dew 
Do  the  violets  silent  lie? 

Why  does  the  lark  far-sailing  fleet 

Sing  with  such  wailing  cries? 
And  why  from  the  sweet  meadow-sweet 

Do  corpse-like  vapors  rise  ? 

And  why  does  the  sun  on  the  meadow  gleam 

With  such  a  chilling  gloom  ? 
Why  is  the  earth  so  gray  and  grim, 

And  dismal  as  a  tomb  ? 


80  LYEICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

Why  am  I  myself  so  sad  and  lone, 

My  dearest  darling,  say  ? 
Oil,  speak,  my  heart's  all-dearest  one, 

Why  did  you  turn  away  ? 


<5ie  fiafcen  Sir  tiel  ersaJjIet, 
Itnb  §afcen  l-iel  jcflaijt. 

/"VER  me  they  much  lamented, 

Of  me  harsh  tales  you've  heard ; 
But  of  what  my  soul  tormented 
They  never  spoke  a  word. 

Their  outcry  was  most  uncivil ; 

They  shook  their  heads  o'er  my  fall; 
They  called  me  the  very  devil, 

And  you  believed  it  all ! 

But  what  should  have  been  the  first  thing 

Not  one  of  them  e'er  guessed ; 
The  stupidest,  worst,  and  curst  thing 

I  secretly  hid  in  my  breast. 

26. 

£ie  Sinbe  bliifite,  bie  KadjUjatt  tang. 

rpHE  lindens  blossomed,  the  nightingale  sung, 

The  sun  like  a  true  friend  smiled  with  the  rest ; 
You  gave  me  a  kiss,  and  your  arm  round  me  flung, 
And  pressed  me  right  close  to  your  dear  heaving 
breast. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  81 

The  dead  leaves  were  flying,  the  raven's  croak  fell, 
The  sun  peeped  out  grim  as  if  bent  to  displease  ; 

Then  we  gave  to  each  other  a  frosty  "farewell!" 
And    you    courteously  courtsied   the   gracefullest 
"cheese."* 


27. 

Sir  Jj.iten  ttet  flit  einancer  gtfitljtt. 

T^TE'VE  had  many  a  sympathetic  thought, 

Without  ever  once  from  propriety  straying ; 
We  never  have  quarrelled  and  never  fought, 

Though  "husband  and  wife"    we  once    oft  were 

playing. 

We  have  played  together  with  merry  jest, 
And  tenderly  kissed  in  embraces  pressed, 

Until  we  at  last,  in  childish  fun, 
Played  at  hide-and-seek  in  wood  and  by  river; 

And,  ah !  our  hiding  so  well  was  done 
That  we've  hidden  ourselves  from  each  other  forever. 

28. 

£u  flictcft  mir  tteu  am  laitijften. 

rpO  me  thou  wert  true  the  longest, 

For  me  thou  hast  interceded ; 
Thou  gav'st  me  comfort  when  needed, 
When  pain  and  need  were  strongest. 

*  Ici  tut;tejl  Xu  Ijoflid)  ten  tycflidjilen  .Kni;. 


82  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

Food  and  drink  thou  hast  brought  me, 
Thy  money  thou  didst  lend  me, 
My  linen  thou  didst  mend  me, 

And  my  travelling  passport  got  me. 

GOD  guard  her  I  loved  so  blindly 
From  cold  and  from  heat  forever ! 
And  may  he  punish  her  never 

For  treating  me  so  kindly ! 


29. 

Ste  (Svbe  Itar  fc  Inncje  geijig, 
£a  Jam  bet  5DJai,  unb  fie  icarb  fpcnfcaiel, 

Unb  3tUe«  ladjt  unb  jaudjjt,  unb  freut  fid), 
3d)  abet  bin  nidjt  jum  iadjcn  ca^abet. 

npOO  long  had  the  earth  kept  back  its  treasure ; 
At  last  May  came  with  her  riches  spendible, 
And  all  things  laughed  and  beamed  with  pleasure  : 
I  only  remained  of  all  unbendable. 

Flowers  were  sprouting,  and  May-bells  ringing, 
The  birds,  in  fact,  seemed  quite  comprehendible ; 

But  I  found  no  joy  in  their  chat  or  singing, 
And  I  only  wished  it  were  all  suspendible. 

Every  one  bored  me  with  bow  or  salaam, 

They  wondered  to  find  me  so  very  offendable, — 

All  because  my  love  is  now  styled  Madame; 
And  the  matter,  I  fear,  is  not  amendable. 


LYRICAL   IXTERMEZZO.  83 


\  ND  as  I  so  long,  oh,  so  long  delayed, 

When  in  distant  lands  I  dreaming  strayed, 
To  wait,  to  my  darling  seemed  distress. : 
So  she  sewed  for  herself  a  wedding-dress, 
Till  she  finally  held  in  her  tender  embraces 
The  dullest  of  fools  whom  dulriess  disgraces. 

My  darling  is  so  sweet  and  mild, 

She  is  ever  before  me, — the  gentle  child ; 

Her  violet  eyes  and  her  rose-tinted  skin, 

Glowing  and  blowing  year  out,  year  in. 

That  I  from  such  a  love  went  straying. 

AVas  the  stupidest  trick  I  was  e'er  caught  playing, 

31. 

2te  Maucn  Sctldjcit  tet  Mcujelcin. 

rYEU  violets  blue  her  eyelids  fall, 

Ruddy  roses  her  cheeks  we  call, 
Snow-white  lilies  her  hands  so  small, 
Which  bloom  and  bloom  and  never  fade : 
Only  the  little  heart  is  dead. 

32. 

S5te  Sell  ift  jo  jdjiitt  unb  bet  $immel  (o  blau. 

rpHE  world  is  so  fair,  and  the  heaven  so  blue, 
And  the  breezes  blowing  so  softly  woo, 


84  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

And  the  flowers  on  the  meadow  come  blooming  anew, 

Glittering  and  gleaming  in  morning  dew, 

And  I  see  men  rejoicing  at  every  view  ; 

And  yet  I  would  fain  in  my  grave  be  sleeping, 

By  a  dead  love  lying,  up  to  her  creeping. 


33. 

TOein  fiijeS  Sic6,  Iticnn  Su  im  Stab'. 

"JV/TY  own  dear  love,  when  in  the  tomb — 
The  gloomy  tomb — you're  sleeping, 
Then  I  unto  your  side  will  come, 
Up  to  you  softly  creeping. 

I'll  press  you,  caress  you  with  kisses  wild, 
My  cold,  silent,  pale  one,  with  yearning, 

Eejoicing  and  trembling  and  weeping  till  wild, 
Until  I  to  a  white  corpse  am  turning. 

The  dead  may  arise  when  midnight  calls, 

In  aerial  dances  flying ; 
But  we  will  keep  still  'neath  the  tomb's  close  walls, 

Embracing  and  silently  lying. 

The  dead  will  arise  on  the  Judgment  Day, 
To  be  saved,  or  from  heaven  to  sever : 

We  will  give  it  no  thought, — we'll  have  nothing 

to  say, 
But  will  slumber  and  slumber  forever. 


LYKICAL   INTERMEZZO.  85 

31. 
Gin  3<d)tenfraum  ftcljt  cinjam. 

A     riXE-TREE'S  standing  lonely 

In  the  North  on  a  mountain's  brow, 
Nodding,  with  whitest  cover, 

Wrapped  up  by  the  ice  and  snow. 

He's  dreaming  of  a  palrn-tree, 

Which,  far  in  the  Morning  Land, 
Lonely  and  silent  sorrows 

Mid  burning  rocks  and  sand.* 


T  OVELY,  gleaming,  golden  star, 
Greet  my  darling  when  afar! 
Say  I'm  always,  since  we  part, 
Pale  and  true  and  sick  at  heart. 


*  Few  poems  surpass  this  either  in  beauty  and  simplicity  of 
form  or  depth  of  expression.  That  it  was  one  of  Heine's  own 
favorites  may  bo  inferred  from  his  haying  placed  a  part  of  it  as 
motto  to  "The  New  Spring"  in  his  "  Pictures  of  Travel."  The 
original  is  as  follows  : — • 

Gin  3id)tenta«m  fhftt  etnfant 

Om  9lertcn  ouf  fafiler  &ett\ 
3  IMI  fcfrlafert;  mit  ireijjcr  £ccfe 

UmljiiQert  il;it  Si*  unb  2d)iice. 

Gr  trdumt  »on  einer  f  atmc, 

Xie,  fern  im  SJJorijenliinb, 
Giiifam  lint  fdjwciiicnb  traiicrt 

Shtf  lu'cnucntcr  gdfemeanc. 


86  LYRICAL   INTEKMEZZO. 

36. 

Stcf),  recnn  icf)  nuc  bet  gdjemel  >sit'. 

TAe  .Head  speaks. 

A  H !  could  I  but  the  footstool  be 

On  which  my  darling  rests  her  feet ! 
Although  right  hard  she  stamped  on  me, 
I  would  not  murmur  when  they  beat. 

The  Heart  speaks. 
Ah !  if  I  might  the  cushion  be 

Which  she  oft  sticks  her  needles  in ! 
However  she  might  torture  me, 

I  would  not  mind  the  pricks  a  pin. 

The  Song  speaks. 
Could  I  the  piece  of  paper  be 

Which  she  around  a  ringlet  wreathes! 
Into  her  ear  I'd  whisper  free 

The  love  which  in  me  lives  and  breathes 

37. 

Seit  tie  Sietfte  ttar  entfernt. 

QINCE  my  sweetheart  went  away, 

I've  forgotten  to  be  gay  ; 
Many  a  jester  made  his  joke, 
But  I  neither  laughed  nor  spoke. 

Since  her  love  no  more  I  keep, 

I  have  also  ceased  to  weep  ; 

Though  with  woe  my  heart  nigh  breaks, 

Every  tear  my  eye  forsakes. 


LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO.  8? 

38. 


"C^ROM  the  groat  pain  of  my  spirit 

Come  the  little  songs  I  am  singing, 
"Which,  in  music  their  flight  upwinging, 
To  her  cold  heart  fluttering  bear  it. 

They  fly  to  my  love  from  her  lover, 
Then  return  to  me  moaning  and  crying, 
Yet  will  not  toll  with  their  sighing 

What  it  is  in  her  heart  they  discover. 


39. 

3i)  fiinn  c3  ni*t  tetgcfien. 

rpOO  oft  I  cannot  bless  thee, 

Thou  loved  and  loveliest  ono, 
That  I  did  once  possess  thee, 
Body  and  soul  mine  own. 

And,  oh,  but  I  would  be  merry 
If  the  body  so  sweet  I  might  woo ! 

The  soul  ye  might  take  and  bury : 
I  have  soul  enough  for  two. 

I  will  cut  my  soul  asunder, 
And  breathe  in  a  half  to  thee, 

And  twine  myself  round  tlioe  so  tender,- 
One  body,  one  soul  we  will  be. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

40. 
Sp^tlifler  in  £onnta(|3iB<flct!t. 

rpOWN-SNOBBIES,  their  Sunday  keeping, 

Go  walking  through  wood  and  plain, 
Rejoicing,  while  kid-like  they're  leaping, 
To  gaze  on  "fair  Nature"  again. 

They  stare  with  dull  eyes  gazing 

At  all  the  romantic  show, 
And  their  long  ears  deem  amazing 

The  sparrows,  as  on  they  go. 

But  I  carefully  draw  my  curtain, 
And  with  black  I  hang  my  wall ; 

E'en  to-day  my  ghosts,  I'm  certain, 
Will  pay  me  a  morning  call. 

The  old  love  comes  gently  sweeping 

Afar  from  the  land  of  death  ; 
She  sits  herself  by  me,  weeping, 

And  my  heart  grows  soft  in  her  breath. 


41. 

TOancf)  SBilb  ttergefjencr  S,ntm. 

rpHE  forms  of  times  forgotten 

Oft  from  their  graves  revive, 
And  show  me  how  when  near  thee 
I  once  was  wont  to  live. 


LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO. 

By  day  through  the  streets  I  wandered, 
And,  as  I  wandered,  dreamed ; 

All  gazed  on  me  and  marvelled, 
So  sad  and  mute  I  seemed. 

In  the  night-time  it  was  better: 

Then  the  streets  were  silent  ground  ; 

I  and  my  shadow  together, 
We  wandered  silent  around, — 

Wandered  with  echoing  footstep 

Over  the  bridge  and  brook  ; 
The  moon  through  clouds  came  breaking, 

And  greeted  with  solemn  look. 

I  stood  before  thy  dwelling, 

I  looked  the  windows  o'er ; 
I  looked  upon  thy  window, 

And,  oh!  but  my  heart  was  sore! 

I  know  thou'st  looked  from  the  window 

Full  often  on  the  square, 
And  seen  me  in  the  moonlight 

Stand  like  a  pillar  there. 


42. 

liin  jungltn^  licit  cin  23I3bd)cn. 

A    YOUNG  man  loves  a  maiden 
Who  another  youth  prefers  ; 
The  other,  he  loved  another, 
And  has  joined  his  fate  to  hers. 


90  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

The  maiden  marries  from  anger, 
Accepting  the  very  next 

Who  comes  in  the  way  with  an  offer, 
And  the  youth  is  sorely  vexed. 

It  is  an  old,  old  story, 

And  yet  'tis  ever  now; 
And  he  to  whom  it  answers, 

It  breaks  his  heart  in  two. 


43. 

Rteunfcfd&aft,  Sicfcc,  Stein  tot  SBcifen. 

rpHE  Elixir  Vitfe,  friendship,  love  ! 

Oft  their  praise  my  soul  would  move, 
And  I  praised  and  sought  each  one, 
But  of  all  discovered  none. 


44. 

$8t'  Mi  fca8  Eiebdjcn  IHnjcn. 

TTEAR  I  the  ballad  ringing 

Which  once  my  loved  one  sang 
My  heart  in  twain  seems  springing, 
So  wildly  shoots  the  pang. 

I  am  driven  by  gloomy  yearning 
Far  up  to  the  forest  gray ; 

And  there,  into  hot  tears  turning, 
My  sorrow  goes  flowing  away. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  91 


TOir  ttSumtt  Vtm  cinem  JtomjSfini. 

T  DREAMED  of  the  fairest  princess  seen, 

With  the  palest  of  tearful  faces  ; 
We  sat  all  under  the  linden  green, 
Held  fast  in  love's  embraces. 

"  I  do  not  wish  thy  father's  throne, 
Nor  his  sceptre  of  gold,  0  dearest, 

Nor  do  I  seek  his  diamond  crown, 
But  thou,  and  thou  only,  0  fairest!" 

"That  may  not  be,"  said  she  to  me  ; 

"I  was  laid  in  my  grave  too  early; 
And  only  by  night  I  come  to  tliee, 

Because  I  love  thee  so  dearly." 


46. 

37!ein  SicKtcn  irit  fafitit  tctfammen. 

"JITY  love,  in  our  light  boat  riding, 

We  sat  at  the  close  of  day, 
And  still  through  the  night  went  gliding 
Afar  on  our  watery  way. 

The  Spirit-Isle,  soft  glowing, 

Lay  dimmering  'neath  moon  and  star ; 
There  music  was  softly  flowing, 

And  cloud-dances  waved  afar, 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

And  ever  more  sweetly  pealing, 
And  waving  more  winningly ; 

But  past  it  our  boat  went  stealing 
All  sad  on  the  wide,  wide  sea. 


47. 

StuS  dltcn  5SlSljrd;en  hnnEt  el. 

Tj^ROM  ancient  legends  springing, 

Beckons  a  snowy  hand, 
With  a  ringing  and  a  singing, 
And  all  of  a  magic  land, 

Where  strange  large  flowers  are  yearning 

In  golden  eventides, 
All  passionately  burning, 

Gazing  like  longing  brides ; 

Where  all  the  trees  are  speaking, 

And  singing  like  a  choir, 
And  fountains  pure  fall  breaking 

In  music  on  the  air, — 

Love's  sweetest  airs  prolonging, 
Such  as  thou  ne'er  didst  know, 

Until  strange  love  and  longing 
O'er  all  the  spirits  flow. 

And  oh  that  I  were  yonder ! 

How  blest  my  heart  would  be 
In  that  sweet  land  of  wonder, 

How  happy  and  how  free ! 


LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO.  93 

0  Land  of  Joy! — bc-foro  mo 

I  see  thee  oft  in  dreams  ! 
But  when  the  day  da\vns  o'er  me, 

It  flits  like  foam  on  streams. 


T  HAVE  loved  thee  long,  and  I  love  thee  now 

And,  though  the  world  should  perish, 
O'er  its  dying  embers  still  would  glow 
The  flames  of  the  love  I  cherish. 


And  I  will  love  till  life  be  past, 


Till  death's  dark  hour  is  nearin 


My  life's  great  love- wound  bearing. 


49. 


(^N  a  fair  gleaming  summer  morning 

I  walk  in  the  garden  below ; 
The  flowers  are  whispering  and  talking, 
But  silent  among  them  I  go. 

The  flowers  are  whispering  and  talking ; 

With  pity  my  features  they  scan : 
"Oh,  do  not  be  cross  to  our  sister, 

Thou  sorrowful  pale-faced  man.," 


94  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

50. 
(*3  Ieud)tet  mcine  Siete. 

TN  the  dark  garb  she's  wearing, 
My  love  herself  seems  bright, 
As  when  sad  tales  we're  hearing, 
But  told  in  a  summer's  night : 

"In  magic  garden  straying 
Two  lovers  go  mute  and  lone ; 

The  nightingales  are  playing, 

In  the  light  of  the  summer  moon. 

"  The  maid  scarce  speaks  or  glances ; 

Before  her  kneels  the  knight; 
The  Desert  Giant  advances, 

The  lady  takes  to  flight. 

"  The  knight  lies  bleeding  and  dying, 
His  way  the  giant  doth  wend  ;"- 

When  I  in  my  grave  am  lying, 
The  tale  will  have  reached  its  end. 

51. 

Eie  liaicn  mi<4  nequStet. 

fTTHEY  tortured  me  completely, 

Goading  at  fearful  rate, 

Some  with  the  love  they  bore  me, 

And  others  with  their  hate. 


LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO.  95 

In  my  glass  they  poured  their  poison,— 

Yes,  poisoned  the  bread  I  ate, — • 
Some  with  the  love  they  bore  me, 

And  others  with  their  hate. 

But  she  who  mostly  tortured 

With  sorrow  my  whole  soul  moved : 

By  her  I  was  never  hated, 
By  her  I  was  never  loved.* 


rPIIE  ruddy  rays  of  summer 

Upon  thy  cheeks  now  fall 
But,  oh!   the  frosts  of  winter 
Are  in  thy  heart  so  small. 


*  Tliis  poem  was  subsequently  parodied  by  HEINE  himself,  as 
follows  :— 

They  e.nnuycnt  mo  sadly, 

And  bored  me,  as  you  may  sec, 
Some  of  them  with  their  prose, 

And  some  with  their  poesy. 

They  shocked  my  ears  most  sadly, 

In  endless  disharmony, 
Some  of  them  with  their  prose, 

And  some  with  their  poesy. 

But  those  who  with  their  scribbling 

Tried  me  the  most  the  while 
Wrote  neither  in  good  poetic 

Nror  in  good  prosaic  style. 


96  LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO. 

Some  day  there'll  be  a  change,  love, 
A  change  in  every  part ! 

The  winter  '11  be  on  the  checks,  love, 
The  summer  in  your  heart. 


53. 

Sunn  jttci  teoft  cirmnber  fcfjeibcn. 


when  two  are  parting, 
Each  grasps  a  hand  as  friend 
And  then  begins  a  weeping 
And  a  sighing  without  end. 

We  did  not  sigh  when  parting  ; 

No  tears  between  us  fell  ; 
The  weeping  and  the  sighing 

Came  after  our  farewell. 


54. 

£ic  fajjen  unb  ttanfen  am  Sfccdifdj. 

TT/'ITII  feelings  refined  and  poetic, 

They  talked,  o'er  their  teacups,  of  love: 
The  gentlemen  all  were  aesthetic, 
The  ladies,  all  easy  to  move. 

"Our  love  should  all  be  platonic," 

The  dry  old  Hofrath  cried  ; 
His  lusty  dame's  smile  was  ironic, 

And  yet  from  her  heart  she  sighed. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  97 

Like  an  oracle  spoke  the  parson  : — 

"If  in  love  too  far  we  go, 
It  is  bad  for  the  constitution." 

Young  lady  lisped  out,  "Why  so?" 

"Love! — ah,  love  is  a  passion, " 
Said  the  countess,  in  tenderest  tone, 

And  gave,  in  her  tenderest  fashion, 
A  cup  to  the  Herr  Baron. 

There  was  still  a  place  at  the  table : 
You  should  have  been  there,  my  dove, 

To  give  us,  as  well  as  you're  able, 
Your  experience  in  love. 


Sctijittet  finb  ntdne  fitter, 
SSie  tcnnt'  c3  unfceta  jcin? 

"|\/TY  songs  are  full  of  poison  : — 
How  could  it  different  be  ? 
Since  thou'st  been  pouring  poison 
O'er  the  bloom  of  life  for  me. 

My  songs  are  full  of  poison  ; — 
And  poisoned  they  well  may  be : 

I  bear  in  my  heart  many  serpents, 
And  with  them,  beloved,  thee. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

56. 
2)Hr  trSumte  ttrieber  ber  alte  Zraum. 

rpHE  dream  of  old  came  over  me  : 
'Twas  May  night  by  the  river : 
We  sat  beneath  the  linden-tree 
And  swore  to  be  true  forever. 

A  swearing  by  one,  a  swearing  by  both, 
Kissing,  cooing,  and  all,  to  delight  me ; 

And,  to  make  me  remember  thy  joy  and  my  oath, 
In  thy  rapture  thou  deeply  didst  bite  me. 

Oh,  biting  love  with  eyes  of  light! 

Why  pass  all  rules  unheeded  ? 
To  swear  was  regular  and  right, 

The  biting  was  not  needed. 


57. 

3cf)  ftc!;'  out  be«  a?erj|e 
Unb  iccrbc  fentimcntal. 

T  STAND  upon  a  mountain, 

Singing  sentimental  rhymes. 
"Oh  that  I  were  a  birdling!" 
I  sigh  a  thousand  times. 

And  if  I  were  a  swallow, 
I'd  fly,  my  child,  to  thee  ; 

And  were  thy  windows  open, 
Oh,  there  my  nest  should  be. 


LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO.  HI) 

And  if  I  were  a  nightingale, 

By  thee  I'd  still  be  seen, 
And  sing  by  night  my  songs  of  lovo 

All  on  the  linden  green. 

Or  if  I  were  a  mocking-bird, 

Unto  thy  heart  I'd  flee ; 
Thou  lovest  well  all  mocking-birds, 

Or  aught  like  mockery.* 

58. 

TDfcin  SJCJCH  rottet  Linjtam. 

"JX/TY  coach  goes  slowly  rolling 

All  through  the  greenwood  gay, 
Through  flowery  dales  enchanting, 
Which  bloom  in  the  sunny  ray. 

Of  my  lady-love  musing  and  dreaming, 
I  sit,  when  three  forms  approach, 

Three  shadowy  forms,  which,  greeting 
And  nodding,  peer  into  the  coach. 

They  leap  and  make  grimaces, 

So  mocking,  and  yet  so  shy, 
And  whirl  up  like  mists  together, 

And,  tittering,  go  darting  by. 


*  SJBenn  id)  ein  ©impel  ware, 

So  flog'  iij)  gleid)  an  £ein  $e 
2)u  Mjl  ja  l)elb  ten  ©impeht, 
lint  f)ei!cfl  Oimpelfdjmeri. 
(•IMPEL,  a  buliiuch,  a  dolt  or  simpleton. 


100  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

59. 

3d;  Jjat'  tin  Irauin  gclveinct. 

T  WEPT  while  I  was  dreaming 

That  thou  didst  buried  lie  ; 

I  woke,  and  with  my  weeping 

My  cheeks  were  not  yet  dry. 

I  wept  while  I  was  dreaming 
That  thou  hadst  gone  from  me  ; 

I  woke,  and  still  kept  weeping 
Full  long  and  bitterly. 

I  wept  while  I  was  dreaming 
That  thou  didst  love  me  well  ; 

I  woke,  and  —  woe  is  me,  love  !  — 
My  tears  are  flowing  still. 

60. 

atTnacfjtlidj  im  Xtaume  fclj'  ii)  2i<f).* 


night  in  dreams  thou  com'st  to  rue, 
I  hear  thee  gently  calling, 
And  then,  loud  weeping,  leap  to  thee, 
At  thy  dear  feet  down  falling. 


*  Of  this  poem  FRIEDRICH  STEINMANN  tells  us,  in  his  work  on 
HEINE  ( Dcnl-wurdiglceiten  und  Erlrlmisse,  Leipzig,  1857),  that 
when  first  read  in  Berlin  by  the  author  before  the  literary  circle 
of  the  VON  E.VSES,  CHAMISSO,  GA.NS,  HELMINE  VON  CII£ZY,  aiid 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  101 

Thou  look'st  on  me  so  mournfully, 

Thy  fair  blonde  tresses  shaking ; 
Then  from  thine  eyes  all  tremblingly 

The  pearly  tears  come  breaking. 

Thou  breathest  a  word  in  under-tone, 

And  givest  me  cypress  braided  : 
I  wake, — and  the  cypress-wreath  is  gone, 

And  the  word  from  my  memory  faded. 

61. 

Ta3  ifi  ein  Staufen  unb  £culcn. 

rPIIE  wind  and  the  rain  are  playing, 

And  the  autumn  storm  roars  wild  : 
Oh,  where  may  she  be  straying, 
My  poor  unhappy  child  ? 

At  her  window  sadly  dreaming, 

In  her  little,  lonely  room, 
Her  eyes  with  tear-drops  gleaming, 

She  looks  out  into  gloom. 


T 


62. 

Set  $eitfinnnb  tihtclt  tie  Saume. 

HE  Fall-wind  rattles  the  branches, 
The  night  is  chilly  grown, 


others  who  were  wont  to  assemble  at  the  house  of  ELISE  VON 
II'jiiKNii.vusEX,  it  excited  so  much  merry  opposition — in  other 
words,  was  so  good-naturedly  laughed  at — that  it  was  at  the  time 
withheld  from  publication. 


102  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

And,  wrapped  in  my  dark-gray  mantle, 
I  ride  through  the  wood  alone. 


And  as  I  ride,  so  riding 

My  thoughts  go  on  before ; 
They  carry  me,  light  and  lively, 

Up  to  my  true  love's  door. 

The  hounds  bay  loud,  and  the  servants 

Their  flaring  torches  bring  ; 
I  rush  up  the  winding  staircase, 

My  steel  spurs  rattle  and  ring. 

In  her  well-lighted  tapestried  chamber, 
Where  all  is  sweet-perfumed  and  warm, 

The  beautiful  darling  awaits  mo  ; 
And  at  last  we  are  fast  arm  in  arm. 

The  oak-tree  speaks  in  the  forest, 

Where  the  leaves  on  the  storm-wind  stream 
"What  wilt  thou,  0  foolish  rider, 

With  this  thy  foolish  dream  ?" 


63. 

<J3  (attt  ein  Etctn  tycruntcr. 

VONDER  a  star  is  falling 

From  its  far-gleaming  height : 
That  is  the  star  of  love,  alone : 
I  see  its  fading  light! 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  103 

Blossoms  and  leaves  are  falling 
From  the  apple-tree  to  the  ground, 

And  the  merry  mocking  breezes 

Come  driving  them  round  and  round. 

The  swan  on  the  lake  is  singing, 

While  up  and  down  he  rows ; 
And  with  softer  song  and  softer 

To  his  watery  grave  he  goes. 

And  all  is  dark  and  silent : 

On  the  wind  tiy  leaf  and  flower ; 

The  star  is  scattered  in  ashes, 
And  the  song  of  the  swan  is  o'er. 


64. 

Xer  Sraumjctt  tc,t(6t'  mtdj  in  cm  9iieienf<$lcjj. 

rpIIE  Dream-God  brought  me  to  a  giant  pile, 

Mid  sweet  enchanted  scents  and  tapers  burning, 
Where  a  strange,  motley  throng  pressed  on  the  while, 

Through  labyrinthine  chambers  strangely  turning. 
The  pale  crowd  seeking  exit  filled  each  aisle, 

Wringing  their  hands  and  wailing  in  wild  yearning. 
Maidens  and  knights  I  marked  among  the  many  ; 
And  I  am  hurled  along  as  swift  as  any. 

When  suddenly  I'm  all  alone,  and  so 

I  stare  that  naught  remains  of  crowd  reminding, 
Then  wander  on  alone,  and  haste  and  go 

Through  all  the  chambers  marvellously  winding. 


104  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

My  feet  seem  lead,  my  heart  all  fright  and  woe, 

And  now  I  deem  the  exit  past  all  finding. 
At  length,  however,  to  the  gate  I  fare, 
And  now  I  go Oh,  God  !  who's  standing  there  ? 

I  saw  my  love  upon  that  threshold  stand, 

Her  brow  all  bent  with  care,  her  lips  with  sorrow. 

I  should  return,  she  showed  it  with  her  hand  : 
Was  it  a  threat  or  warning  for  the  morrow  ? 

A  sweet  fire  from  her  eyes  flashed  forth  command, 
Till  heart  and  brain  seemed  a  new  strength  to  bor 
row; 

Strange,   lovely,  stern,  the  thoughts  those   glances 
spoke, 

And  yet  so  full  of  love !     With  that  I  woke. 

65. 

Ste  TOtttcrndd)t  toat  tatt  uitb  ftumm. 

rpHE  midnight  air  was  cold  and  rude, 

I  wandered  wailing  through  the  wood; 
But  though  the  trees  from  their  sleep  I  waken, 
Above  me  in  pity  their  heads  are  shaken. 

66. 

Sim  ftreujtteg  hnrb  iegtafcen. 

rjIHE  suicide  lies  buried 

Where  the  cross-roads  pass  o'er  ; 
There  a  blue  flower  is  growing, 
Called  The  Poor  Sinner's  Flower. 


LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO.  105 

I  stood  on  the  cross-road,  sighing, 

In  the  cold  midnight  hour  ; 
Slowly  in  moonlight  waving 

I  saw  The  Poor  Sinner's  Flower. 


67. 

SSo  id)  bin,  mid)  ring?  umbunfclt. 

TI7"HERE  I  am,  still  darker  o'er  me 

Deeper  darkness  seems  to  rise, 
Since  no  longer  flash  before  me, 
Dearest  love,  thy  lovely  eyes. 

Clouded  is  the  heavenly  dawning 
Of  my  love-star's  golden  light ; 

At  my  feet  the  abyss  is  yawning  • 
Take  me,  ancient,  endless  Night ! 


"V"IGHT  lay  upon  my  eyelids, 
Lead  lay  upon  my  mouth  ; 
With  brain  and  heart  all  frozen 
I  lay  in  the  grave  of  youth. 

I  cannot  tell  how  long  it  was 
I  slumbered  in  the  cave, 

Till  I  awoke  and  listened 
To  a  knocking  in  my  grave. 

"Will  you  not  rise,  my  Henry? 
The  Judgment-Day  comes  on, 


106  LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO. 

And  all  the  Dead  are  risen, 
Their  endless  joy  begun." 

"  Dear  love,  there  is  no  rising 
For  one  forever  blind  : 

The  sight  I  lost  through  weeping 
I  never  again  shall  find." 

"But  from  your  eyes,  my  Henry, 
I'll  kiss  the  night  away; 

And  you  shall  see  the  angels 
And  Heaven's  glorious  day." 

"  I  cannot  rise,  my  darling: 
It  bleeds,  as  from  a  sword, 

Where  in  my  heart  you  stabbed  me 
With  one  sharp-pointed  word." 

"  But  very  gently,  Henry, 
I'll  press  your  heart  again, 

And  that  will  stanch  the  bleeding, 
And  that  will  heal  the  pain." 

"I  cannot  rise,  my  darling: 
My  head  is  bleeding,  see, 

Where  long  ago  I  fired  the  shot 
When  you  were  stolen  from  me !" 

"  But  with  my  tresses,  Henry, 
Your  head  may  well  be  bound ; 

And  that  will  stop  the  bleeding 
And  cure  the  cruel  wound." 


LYRICAL    INTERMEZZO.  107 

She  prayed  so  softly,  sweetly, 

I  could  not  say  her  no  : 
So  with  the  one  I  loved  so  well 

I  sought  to  rise  and  go. 

Then  all  ray  wounds  burst  open, 

And  like  a  torrent  broke 
From  head  and  heart  the  blood-stream  ; 

And  then— in  haste  I  woke. 


69. 

Etc  alien,  tcien  SHeter. 

HIKE  old  and  evil  ballads, 

The  dreams  with  bitter  sting, — 
Come  now  and  let  us  bury  them  : 
So,  a  great  coffin  bring ! 

I  have  much  to  lay  within  it ; 

But  what  mayn't  yet  be  known, 
Or  why  the  coffin  is  greater 

Than  the  Heidelberger  Tun. 

And  bring  me  a  death-bier  with  it, 
Of  planks  both  thick  and  strong ; 

For  it  must  be  much  longer 

Than  the  bridge  of  Mainz  is  long. 

Then  bring  twelve  giants,  stronger 
Than  Christopher  whose  shrine 

Is  in  Cologne  cathedral 
Beside  the  rolling  Rhine. 


108  LYRICAL   INTERMEZZO. 

And  they  shall  carry  the  coffin 
And  sink  it  in  the  sea  ; 

For  to  such  a  mighty  coffin 
A  mighty  grave  should  bo. 

Do  you  know  why  the  coffin 
So  heavy  and  great  must  be  ? 

Because  in  it  I  laid  my  love, 
And  with  it  my  misery. 


*»      "7 


Trivial  half-way  joys  wo  hate, 

Hate  all  childish  fancies. 
If  no  crime  weigh  down  the  soul, 
AVhy  shniiM  we  endure  colitml 

And  groan  in  death-like  trances? 
The  puling  wight  looks  down  and  sighs, 
Hut  tho  brave  man  lifts  his  eyes 

Up  to  Heaven's  bright  glances. 

IMMERMANN. 


3n  intin  gat  511  tunftcs  vtten. 

TX  my  life  too  dark  and  dreary 

Once  gleamed  an  image  bright 
That  lovely  form  is  faded, 
And  I  am  wrapped  in  night. 

When  children  stray  in  darkness, 
And  fears  around  them  throng, 

To  drive  away  their  terror 
They  sing  aloud  a  song. 


109 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

Thus  like  a  child  I'm  singing 
As  life's  dark  shades  draw  near  ; 

And  though  my  lay  lack  music, 
It  drives  away  my  fear. 


2. 

3cl)  tvetj  nittyt,  u>aS  (ctt  e8  fceteuien. 

T  KNOW  not  what  sorrow  is  o'er  me, 

What  spell  is  upon  my  heart ; 
But  a  tale  of  old  times  is  before  me, — 
A  legend  that  will  not  depart. 

Night  falls  as  I  linger,  dreaming, 

And  calmly  flows  the  Rhine ; 
The  peaks  of  the  hills  are  gleaming 

In  the  golden  sunset-shine. 

A  wondrous  lovely  maiden 

Sits  high  in  glory  there ; 
Her  robe  with  gems  is  laden, 

And  she  combs  her  golden  hair. 

And  she  spreads  out  the  golden  treasure, 

Still  singing  in  harmony ; 
And  the  song  has  a  mystical  measure 

And  a  wonderful  melody. 

The  boatman,  when  once  she  has  bound  him, 

Is  lost  in  a  wild  sad  love ; 
He  sees  not  the  rocks  around  him, 

He  sees  but  the  beauty  above. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOUKXEY.  Ill 

I  believe  that  the  billows  springing 
The  boat  and  the  boatman  drown  ; 

And  all  that  with  her  magical  singing 
The  Lore-lay  has  done. 


3. 

SDJein  $er,,  mein  §erj  ift  tr.iutig. 

"JV/TY  heart,  my  heart  is  weary, 

Yet  merrily  beams  the  May ; 
And  I  lean  against  the  linden, 
High  up  on  the  terrace  gray. 

The  town-moat  far  below  me 

Runs  silent,  and  sad,  and  blue  : 
A  boy  in  a  boat  floats  o'er  it, 

Still  fishing  and  whistling  too. 

And  a  beautiful  varied  picture 
Spreads  out  beyond  the  flood, — 

Fair  houses,  and  gardens,  and  people, 
And  cattle,  and  meadow,  and  wood. 

Young  maidens  are  bleaching  the  linen, 
They  leap  as  they  go  and  come ; 

And  the  mill-wheel  is  dripping  with  diamonds 
I  list  to  its  far-away  hum. 

And  high  on  yon  old  gray  castle 

A  sentry-box  peeps  o'er; 
While  a  young  red-coated  soldier 

Is  pacing  beside  the  door. 


112  THE   HOMEWARD   JOUBXEY. 

Ho  handles  his  shining  musket, 
Which  gleams  in  the  sunlight  red  ; 

He  halts,  he  presents,  and  shoulders  :- 
I  wish  that  he'd  shoot  me  dead  ! 


4. 

3m  SBalbe  tvanfel'  id;  uub  rccinc. 

TN  the  woods  I  wander  weeping  : 

The  thrush  sits  on  the  spray ; 
She  springs  and  sings,  while  peeping, 
Oh,  why  so  sad  to-day? 

Your  sister,  dear,  the  swallow, 
Quite  well  the  reason  knows  ; 

She  builds  her  nest,  she'll  follow 
My  sweetheart  where  she  goes. 

5. 

SMe  SRarfjt  ift  fcu*t  unb  ftutmtt$. 

rpIIE  night  is  wet  and  stormy, 

The  heaven  black  above ; 
In  the  wood  beneath  rustling  brandies 
All  silently  I  rove. 

From  the  lonely  hunter's  cottage 

A  light  beams  cheerily ; 
But  it  will  not  tempt  me  thither, 

Where  all  is  sad  to  see. 

The  blind  old  grandmother's  sitting 
Alone  in  the  leathern  chair. 


TUB   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  113 

Uncanny  and  stern  as  an  image, 
And  speaking  to  no  one  there. 

The  red-headed  son  of  the  hunter 

Walks  cursing  up  and  down, 
And  casts  in  a  corner  his  rifle, 

With  a  bitter  laugh  and  a  frown. 

A  maiden  is  spinning  and  weeping, 
And  moistens  the  flax  with  tears ; 

While  at  her  small  feet,  whimpering, 
Lies  a  hound  with  drooping  ears. 


SUs  i<i)  ouf  bet  SRetjc,  jujitttj. 

A  S  I  once  by  chance  on  a  journey 

My  lady-love's  family  found, 
Little  sister,  and  father,  and  mother, 
Came  joyfully  greeting  around. 

They  asked,  of  course,  "  How  I  found  me?" 
Hoping  my  health  would  not  fail ; 

For,  although  quite  the  same  as  ever, 
My  countenance  seemed  to  be  pale. 

I  asked  of  the  aunts  and  the  cousins, 
Of  many  bores  whom  we  know, 

And  then  of  the  little  greyhound 
With  his  bark  so  soft  and  low. 

Of  the  loved  one — long  since  married — 
Then  I  asked,  by  the  way, — though  late ; 


114  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

And  her  father,  smiling,  whispered 
Of  her  "interesting  state." 

And  I  gave  my  congratulations 

On  the  delicate  event, 
And  to  her  and  to  all  relations 

"Best  remembrances"  were  sent. 

But  the  little  sister  shouted, 

That  the  dog  which  once  was  mine 

Had  gone  mad  in  early  summer : 
"So  we  drowned  him  in  the  Rhine.' 

That  child  is  so  like  her  sister, — 
Especially  when  they  smile  : 

She  has  the  same  soft  glances 
Which  tortured  me  a  while. 


SSir  (alien  am  gifrfjet^aufe. 

sat  by  the  fisher's  cottage 
And  looked  at  the  stormy  tide ; 
The  evening  mist  came  rising, 
And  floating  far  and  wide. 

One  by  one  in  the  light-house 
The  lamps  shone  out  on  high ; 

And  far  on  the  dim  horizon 
A  ship  went  sailing  by. 

We  spoke  of  storm  and  shipwreck, 
Of  sailors  who  live  on  the  deep, 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  115 

And  how  between  sky  and  water 
And  terror  and  joy  they  sweep. 

We  spoke  of  distant  countries, 

In  regions  strange  and  fair, 
And  of  the  wondrous  beings 

And  curious  customs  there  ; 

Of  perfumes  and  lights  on  the  Ganges, 

Where  trees  like  giants  tower, 
And  of  beautiful  silent  beings 

Who  kneel  to  the  lotus-flower ; 

Of  the  wretched  dwarfs  of  Lapland, 

Broad-headed,  wide-mouthed,  and  small, 

Who  crouch  round  their  oil-fires,  cooking, 
And  chatter  and  scream  and  bawl. 

And  the  maidens  earnestly  listened, 

Till  at  last  we  spoke  no  more  : 
The  ship  like  a  shadow  had  vanished, 

And  darkness  fell  deep  on  the  shore. 


Sretbe  ben  ftnljn  ait's  faitb. 

~[\/TY  gentle  ferry-maiden, 

Come,  push  the  boat  to  land, 
And  sit  thee  down  beside  mo, 
Caressing  with  hand  in  hand. 

Lay  thy  head  against  my  bosom, 
And  have  no  foar  of  me : 


116  THE  HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 

Dost  thou  not  venture  boldly 
Each  day  on  the  roaring  sea? 

My  heart  is  like  the  ocean  ; 

It  has  storm,  and  ebb,  and  flow, 
And  many  a  pearl  is  hidden 

In  its  silent  depths  below. 

9. 

Set  TOonb  ift  aufgeganjjen. 

rpHE  moon  is  high  in  heaven, 
And  shimmers  o'er  the  sea ; 
And  my  heart  throbs  like  my  dear  one's, 
As  she  silently  sits  by  me. 

With  my  arm  around  the  darling, 

I  rest  upon  the  strand  : 
"What  sound  is  in  the  night-wind? 

Why  trembles  your  snow-white  hand?' 

"  Those  are  no  evening  breezes, 
But  the  mermaids  singing  low, — 

The  mermaids,  once  my  sisters, 
Who  were  drowned  so  long  ago." 

10. 

3tuf  ben  Solfen  tu^l  bet  TOonb, 
Sine  SRiefenpommeianje. 

nTHE  quiet  moon  upon  the  clouds 

Like  a  giant  orange  is  glowing, 

While,  far  beneath,  the  old  gray  sea, 

All  striped  with  silver,  is  flowing. 


THE   HOMEWAED   JOURNEY.  117 

Alono  I  wander  on  the  strand, 
Where  the  white  surf  is  broken, 

But  hear  full  many  a  gentle  word 
Amid  the  waves  soft  spoken. 

But,  oh,  the  night  is  far  too  long  ; 

Silence  too  long  has  bound  me : 
Fair  water-fairies,  come  to  me, 

And  dance  and  sing  around  me. 

Oh,  take  my  head  upon  your  lap, 
Take  body  and  soul  in  keeping ! 

But  sing  me  dead, — caress  rne  dead, — 
And  kiss  me  to  endless  sleeping ! 

11. 

(5in3cl)ut(t  in  gtaue  iSdten. 

A  LL  wrapped  up  in  gray  cloud-garments, 

Now  the  great  gods  sleep  together ; 
And  I  hear  their  thunder-snoring, 
For  to-night  we've  dreadful  weather. 

Dreadful  weather !  what  a  tempest 
Threats  our  ship  with  dire  disaster ! 

Who  will  check  the  mighty  storm-wind, 
And  the  waves  without  a  master  ? 

Can't  be  helped,  though,  if  all  nature 

A  mad  holiday  is  keeping  : 
So  I'll  wrap  me  up  and  slumber, 

As  the  gods  above  are  sleeping. 


118  THE   HOMEWARD  JOURNEY. 


?ct  2Bin!>  jictit  feinc  ,£>ofen  an. 

rpHE  wild  wind  puts  his  trousers  on,  — 

His  foam-white  water  breeches  ; 
He  lashes  the  waves,  and  every  one 
Hoars  out,  and  howls,  and  pitches. 

From  yon  wild  height,  with  furious  might, 
The  rain  comes  roaring,  groaning. 

It  seems  as  if  the  old  black  Night 
The  old  dark  Sea  were  drowning. 

The  snow-white  sea-gull  to  our  mast 
Clings,  screaming  hoarse,  and  crying  ; 

And  every  scream  to  me  doth  seeru 
A  deathly  prophesying. 

13. 

Set  Sturm  fpielt  aitf  sum  laiije. 

rpIIE  wind  pipes  up  for  dancing, 
The  waves  in  white  are  clad  : 
Hurrah  !•  —  how  the  ship  is  leaping  ! 
And  the  night  is  merry  and  mad. 

And  living  hills  of  water 

Sweep  up  as  the  storm-wind  calls  : 
Here  a  black  gulf  is  gaping, 

And  there  a  white  tower  falls. 

And  sounds  as  of  sickness  and  swearing 
From  the  depths  of  the  cabin  come  : 

I  keep  a  firm  hold  on  the  bulwarks, 
And  wish  that  I  now  were  at  home. 


TIIF,   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  119 

14. 

Jet  atenb  lommt  gejejctt. 

rpIIE  night  comes  stealing  o'er  me, 

And  clouds  are  on  the  sea; 
While  the  wavelets  rustle  before  me 
With  a  mystical  melody. 

A  water-maid  rose  singing: 

She  sat  by  me,  fair  and  pale; 
And  snow-white  breasts  were  springing, 

Like  fountains,  'neath  her  veil. 

She  kissed  me  and  she  pressed  me, 

Till  I  wished  her  arms  away : 
"Why  hast  thou  so  caressed  me, 

Thou  lovely  Water  Fay?" 

"Oh,  thou  need'st  not  alarm  thee 

That  thus  thy  form  I  hold  ; 
For  I  only  seek  to  warm  me, 

And  the  night  is  black  and  cold." 

"The  wind  to  the  waves  is  calling, 

The  moonlight  is  fading  away ; 
And  tears  down  thy  cheek  are  falling, 

Thou  beautiful  Water  Fay!" 

"The  wind  to  the  waves  is  calling, 

And  the  moonlight  grows  dim  on  the  rocks; 

But  no  tears  from  mine  eyes  are  falling : 
'Tis  tho  water  which  drips  from  my  locks." 


120  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

"The  ocean  is  heaving  and  sobbing, 
The  sea-mews  scream  in  the  spray; 

And  thy  heart  is  wildly  throbbing, 
Thou  beautiful  Water  Fay!" 

"  My  heart  is  wildly  swelling, 
And  it  beats  in  burning  truth  ; 

For  I  love  thee  past  all  telling, 
Thou  beautiful  mortal  youth." 


15. 

etttt  ici)  an  fceincm  £ 
nS  uoriifcct  j 


early  in  the  morning 
I  pass  thy  window,  sweet, 
Oh,  what  a  thrill  of  joy  is  mine 
When  both  our  glances  meet  !" 

"With  those  dark  flashing  eyeballs 
Which  all  things  round  thee  scan, 

Who  art  thou,  and  what  seek'st  thou, 
Thou  strange  and  sickly  man?" 

"I  am  a  German  poet, 

Well  known  in  the  German  land  : 
Where  the  first  names  are  written, 

Mine  own  with  right  may  stand. 

"And  what  I  seek,  my  fairest, 
Is  that  for  which  many  pine  ; 

And  where  men  speak  of  sorrows, 
Thou'lt  hear  them  speak  of  mine." 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  121 

16. 

?a8  Sfteer  crglimjte  \ve\i  ^incuiS. 

rpIIE  ocean  shimmered  far  around, 

As  the  last  sun-rays  shone  : 
We  sat  beside  the  fisher's  hut, 
Silent,  and  all  alone. 

The  mist  swam  up,  the  water  heaved, 
The  sea-rnew  round  us  screamed  ; 

And  from  thy  dark  eyes,  full  of  love, 
The  scalding  tear-drops  streamed. 

I  saw  them  fall  upon  thy  hand ; 

Upon  my  knee  I  sank, 
And  from  that  white  and  yielding  hand 

The  glittering  tears  I  drank. 

And  since  that  hour  I  waste  away, 

Mid  passion's  hopes  and  fears  : 
0  weeping  girl ! — 0  weary  heart ! — 

Thou'rt  poisoned  with  her  tears  !* 


*  This  is  the  only  poem  in  this  volume  in  which  I  have  departed 
from  the  original  metro.  The  following  version  is  in  the  same 
metre  as  the  original : — 

Far,  far  away  the  ocean  shono, 

As  the  last  sunbeams  fleeted ; 
Beside  the  fisher's  cabin  lone, 

Alono  we  two  were  seated. 

The  mist  arose,  the  water  swelled, 
Gulls  flew,  their  flight  recalling; 


122  THE   HOMEWARD    JOURNEY. 

17. 

£a  trobcn  out  intern  Setjje. 

TTIGH  up  on  yonder  mountain 
There  stands  a  lordly  hall, 
Where  dwell  three  gentle  maidens, 
And  I  was  loved  by  all. 

On  Saturday  Hetty  loved  me, 
The  Sabbath  was  Julia's  day, 

And  on  Monday  Kunigunda 
Half  squeezed  my  breath  away. 


And  from  thine  eyes,  which  love  had  filled, 
The  tears  adown  were  falling. 


I  saw  them  falling  on  thy  hand, 

I  on  my  knee  was  sinking, 
Still  as  they  fell  on  thy  white  hand 

Away  the  tear-drops  drinking. 

Since  that  hour  my  body  wastes  and  wears, 
Yearning  to  deatli  steals  through  me; 

For  that  ill-omened  woman's  tears 
Have  been  a  poison  to  me. 

The  reader  may  remember  that  a  great  proportion  of  words 
which  are  monosyllables  in  English  are  in  two  or  three  syllables 
in  German, — a  peculiarity  which  renders  literal  translation  into 
the  same  metre  as  the  original,  and  into  the  same  number  of 
words,  in  most  cases,  almost  impossible.  The  difficulty  is  in 
creased  with  HEINE'S  poems,  owing  to  the  careful  reduction  in 
them  of  every  phrase  to  the  fewest  possible  words. 

TRANSLATOR. 


THE    ITOMEWAKD   .TOfRXEV.  123 

On  Tuesday,  in  their  castle, 

My  ladies  gave  a  ball ; 
And  thither,  with  coaches  and  horses, 

Went  my  neighbors,  their  wives  and  all. 

But  I  had  no  invitation : — 

Which  bothered  you,  by-the-by! — 

And  the  gossiping  aunts  and  cousins 
Observed  it,  and  laughed  on  the  sly. 

13. 

~|7  AR  on  the  dim  horizon, 

As  in  a  land  of  dreams, 
Rises  a  white-towered  city, 
Fading  'mid  sunset  gleams. 

The  evening  breeze  is  wreathing 

The  water  where  I  float ; 
And  in  solemn  measure  the  sailor 

Keeps  time  as  he  rows  my  boat. 

Again  the  sun  is  rising 

Bright-gleaming  o'er  the  coast, 

And  shows  the  place  more  clearly 
Where  the  one  I  loved  was  lost. 

19. 

Sei  mit  gegrii&t,  bit  Orofre. 

more  in  solemn  ditty 
I  greet  thee,  as  I  melt 


124  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

In  tears,  0  wondrous  city 
Where  once  my  true  love  dwelt. 

Say  on,  ye  gates  and  tower, 

Does  she  I  loved  remain  ? 
I  gave  her  to  your  power : 

Give  me  my  love  again  ! 

Blame  not  the  trusty  tower ! 

No  word  his  walls  could  say, 
As  a  pair,  with  their  trunks  and  baggage, 

So  silently  travelled  away. 

But  the  wicket-gate  was  faithless 
Through  which  she  escaped  so  still : 

Oh,  a  wicket  is  always  ready 
To  ope  when  the  wicked  will.* 

20. 

So  ttxmbl'  idj  Uneber  ben  alien  2Ptg. 

A  GAIN  through  the  streets  well  known  of  old 

I  wander  with  footsteps  weary ; 
Again  before  her  house  I  come, 
And  the  house  is  empty  and  dreary. 


*  Die  Thore  jedoch,  die  liessen 

fifein  Liebchen  entwischen  gar  still ; 
Ein  Thor  ist  immer  willig, 
Wcnn  eine  Thorinn  will. 


"  A  gato  is  ever  found  willing 
To  let  a  fool  "gang  her  ain  gait." — BOWRINO. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

The  streets  are  all  so  narrow  here! 

The  pavement  seems  to  tear  me  ! 
The  roofs  are  falling !  I  haste  away 

As  fast  as  my  feet  will  bear  me. 


21. 

3d;  ttat  in  jene  Ration. 

T  ENTERED  her  homo,  recalling 

'     The  faith  she  had  pledged  while  weeping  : 
Where  I  saw  her  tear-drops  falling, 
I  now  found  serpents  creeping. 


etttt  ift  He  iftj^t,  e8  rufcen  tie  <3,iffen. 

/TYLM  is  the  night,  and  the  city  is  sleeping: — 

Once  in  this  house  dwelt  a  lady  fair ; 
Long,  long  ago  she  left  it,  weeping, 

But  still  the  old  house  is  standing  there. 

Yonder  a  man  at  the  heavens  is  staring, 
Wringing  his  hands  as  in  sorrowful  case  ; 

He  turns  to  the  moonlight,  his  countenance  baring 
O  heaven !  he  shows  me  my  own  sad  face ! 

Shadowy  form,  with  my  own  agreeing, 

Why  mockest  thou  thus,  in  the  moonlight  cold, 

The  sorrows  which  here  once  vexed  my  being 
Many  a  night  in  the  days  of  old? 


126  THE   HOMEAVA.RD   JOURNEY. 

23. 

23ie  Eannft  bu  rufjis  fdfjlafen. 

TTOW  canst  thou  sleep  so  calmly, 

While  I  alive  remain  ? 
Old  griefs  may  yet  be  wakened, 
And  then  I'll  break  my  chain. 

Remember  the  wild  old  ballad, 
How  a  dead,  forgotten  slave 

Came  to  his  silent  lady 
And  bore  her  to  the  grave. 

Believe  me,  my  wondrous  lovely 
And  wondrously  gentle  maid, 

I  live,  and  still  am  stronger 
Than  any  who  are  dead. 

24. 

Tit  Sungfrau  fcfctaft  in  ber  Rammct. 

rpHE  maiden  sleeps  in  her  chamber, 

The  moonlight  steals  quivering  in  ; 
Without  there's  a  ringing  and  singing, 
As  of  waltzing  about  to  begin. 

"  I  will  see  who  it  is  'neath  my  window, 
That  gives  me  this  strange  serenade!" 

She  saw  a  pale  skeleton  figure, 

Who  fiddled,  and  sang  as  he  played : 

"A  waltz  you  once  did  promise, 
And  have  broken  your  word,  my  fair. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  127 

To-night  there's  a  ball  in  the  churchyard  : 
So  come;  I  will  dance  with  you  there!" 

A  spell  came  over  the  maiden, 
She  neither  could  speak  nor  stay ; 

So  she  followed  the  Form, — which,  singing, 
And  fiddling,  went  dancing  away, 

Fiddling,  and  dancing,  and  hopping, 
And  rattling  his  arms  and  spine, 

The  white  skull  grinning  and  nodding 
Away  in  the  dim  moonshine. 


25. 

3d)  fianb  in  tunfelit  Iraumen. 

T  STOOD  in  shadowy  dreaming, 

I  gazed  upon  her  form  ; 

And  in  that  face,  so  dearly  loved, 

Strange  life  began  to  warm. 

And  on  her  soft  and  childlike  mouth 
There  played  a  heavenly  smile  ; 

Though  in  her  dark  and  lustrous  eyes 
A  tear-drop  shone  the  while. 

And  my  own  tears  were  flowing, 

In  silent  agony; 
For,  oh  !  it  is  not  possible 

That  thou  art  lost  to  me. 


128  THE   UOMEWAKD   JOUKNEY. 

26. 
3*5)  unglutfjerget  HtlaS!  cine  Sett. 

T   a  most  wretched  Atlas,  who  a  world 

1     Of  bitterest  griefs  and  agonies  must  carry, 
And  bear  the  all-unbearable,  till,  breaking, 
The  heart  is  lost  within  me. 

Wild  daring  heart ! — it  was  thine  own  mad  choice : 
Thou  wouldst  be  happy,  infinitely  happy, 
Or  wretched  beyond  measure.     Daring  heart, 
Now  thou  art  truly  wretched ! 

27. 

Sic  3al)te  fommen  unb  geljen. 

A  GES  may  come  and  vanish, 

Races  may  pass  away, 
But  the  love  which  I  have  cherished, 
Within,  can  ne'er  decay. 

Once  more  I  fain  would  see  thee, 
And  kneel  where'er  thou  art, 

And,  dying,  whisper, — "Madam, 
Be  pleased  to  accept  my  heart!" 

28. 

SRtr  traumte:  feJjaurtfl  fdjaute  bet  2Kont>. 

TT  seemed  that  the  pale  moon  sadly  shone, 

And  the  stars  were  sadly  gleaming: 
I  was  borne  away  to  my  own  love's  town, 
A  hundred  leagues, — while  dreaming. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOUESEY.  129 

I  came  to  the  house  where  she  had  slept ; 

I  kissed  the  stair  while  weeping, — 
Where  often  her  little  foot  had  stept, 

Which  had  known  her  garment's  sweeping. 

Long  was  the  night,  cold  was  the  night ; 

I  sat  there,  chilled,  despairing ; 
From  the  window  looked  a  phantom  white, 

At  the  chilly  moonlight  staring. 


29. 

S3a3  ftttl  ticje  einfame  2f)rane? 

ilAT  means  this  lonely  tear-drop 
Which  dims  mine  eye  to-day  ? 
It  is  the  last  now  left  me, 
Where  once  so  many  lay. 

It  had  full  many  a  sister 

Which  rolled  in  glittering  light ; 
But  now,  with  my  smiles  and  sorrow, 

They're  lost  in  wind  and  night. 

And,  like  the  mists,  have  faded 
The  light  blue  sparkling  stars 

Which  flashed  their  joys  or  sorrows 
Down  through  life's  prison-bars. 

0  love, — wild  love, — where  art  thou  ? 

Fled  like  an  idle  breath : 
My  silent,  lonely  tear-drop, 

Go  fade  in  misty  death! 


130  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

30. 

Err  fcUtdje,  ^erfcfUiffye  $aI6monb. 

rpHE  pale  half-moon  is  floating 

Like  a  boat  mid  cloudy  waves  : 
Lone  lies  the  pastor's  cottage 
Amid  the  silent  graves. 

The  mother  reads  in  the  Bible, 
The  son  seems  weary  and  weak, 

The  eldest  daughter  is  drowsy, 

While  the  youngest  begins  to  speak : 

"Ah  me  !  how  every  minute 

Rolls  by  so  drearily ! 
Only  when  some  one  is  buried 

Have  we  any  thing  here  to  see  !" 

The  mother  murmured,  while  reading, 

"Thou'rt  wrong  :  they've  brought  but  four 

Since  thy  poor  father  was  buried 
Out  there  by  the  churchyard  door." 

The  eldest  daughter  says,  gaping, 
"No  more  will  I  hunger  by  you : 

I'll  go  to  the  Baron  to-morrow : 
He's  wealthy,  and  fond  of  me  too." 

The  son  bursts  out  into  laughter : 
"Three  hunters  carouse  in  the  Sun : 

They  all  can  make  gold,  and  gladly 
Will  show  me  how  it  is  done." 


THE    UOMEWAED    JOURNEY.  131 

The  mother  holds  the  Bible 

To  his  pale  face  in  grief: 
"And  wilt  thou,  wicked  fellow, 

Become  a  highway  thief?" 

A  rapping  is  heard  on  the  window, 

There  trembles  a  warning  hand  ; 
Without,  in  his  black  church-garments, 

They  see  their  dead  father  stand. 


31. 

XaS  ift  cm  (ctjledjteS  Setter. 

rpO-NIGTIT  wo  have  dreadful  weather, 

It  rains  and  snows  and  storms  ; 
I  sit  at  my  window,  gazing 
Out  on  benighted  forms. 

There  glimmers  a  lonely  candle, 
Which  wearily  wanders  on  : 

An  old  dame  with  a  lantern 
Comes  hobbling  slowly  anon. 

— It  seems  that  for  eggs  and  butter, 
And  sugar,  she  forth  has  come, 

To  make  a  cake  for  her  daughter, 
Her  grown-up  darling  at  home, 

Who,  at  the  bright  lamp  blinking, 

In  an  arm-chair  lazily  lies  ; 
And  golden  locks  are  waving 

Above  hur  beautiful  eyes. 
10 


132  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

32. 

TOan  gtaujt,  bafj  icf)  mid)  gtamc. 


say  that  my  heart  is  breaking 
With  love  and  sorrow  too  ; 
And  at  last  I  shall  believe  it, 
As  other  people  do. 

Sweet  girl,  with  eyes  dark  beaming, 

I  have  ever  told  thee  this, 
That  my  heart  with  love  is  breaking, 

That  thou  wert  all  my  bliss. 

But  only  in  my  chamber 
Dared  I  thus  boldly  speak  : 

Alas!  —  when  thou  wert  present 
My  words  were  sad  and  weak. 

For  there  were  evil  angels 

Who  quickly  hushed  my  tongue  ; 

And,  oh!  such  evil  angels 

Kill  many  a  heart  when  young. 


33. 

£eine  ftet^cn  SHIicnftnger. 

/"\H,  thy  lovely  lily-fingers  ! 

If  I  once  again  could  kiss  them, 
Press  them  once  upon  my  heart, 
And  then  die  in  silent  weeping ! 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  133 

For  thy  clear  deep  eyes  like  violets 
Sweep  before  me  day  and  night ; 
And  I  vex  my  soul  in  guessing 
At  the  soft,  sweet,  blue  enigmas. 


34. 

£>at  fie  fid)  bcnn  nic  geSujjcrt? 

11 TTAS  she  really  never  noticed 

That  you  long  with  love  were  burning  ? 
Saw  you  never  in  her  glances 
Any  sign  of  love  returning  ? 

"  Could  you  never  with  your  glances 
Wake  that  glance  which  thrills  and  flatters, — 

You,  who  surely  are  no  donkey, 
Friend  of  mine,  in  these  small  matters  ?" 


35. 

Sic  lictten  fid)  teibe,  bed)  fcincr. 

HHHEY  tenderly  loved,  and  yet  neither 
Would  venture  the  other  to  move ; 
They  met  as  if  hate  were  between  them, 
And  yet  were  half  dying  with  love. 

They  parted,  and  then  saw  each  other, 
At  times,  in  their  visions  alone  ; 

They  had  long  left  this  sad  life  together, 
Yet  scarcely  to  either  'twas  known. 


134  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

36. 

Unb  all  it$  <Sud)  meine  Stijmerjcn  geltagt. 

EN  first  my  afflictions  you  heard  me  rehearse, 
You  gaped  and  you  stared : — God  be  praised 

'twas  no  worse ! 

But  when  I  repeated  them  smoothly  in  rhyme, 
You    thought    it    was    "wonderful!"    "glorious!" 
"sublime!" 

37. 

3<5)  riet  fccn  Intfc!  itnb  cr  fam. 

T  CALLED  the  Devil,  and  he  came: 

In  blank  amaze  his  form  I  scanned. 
He  is  not  ugly,  is  not  lame, 

But  a  refined,  accomplished  man, — 
One  in  the  very  prime  of  life, 
At  home  in  every  cabinet  strife, 
Who,  as  diplomatist,  can  tell 
Church  and  State  news  extremely  well. 
He  is  somewhat  pale, — and  no  wonder,  either, 
Since  he  studies  Sanscrit  and  Hegel  together. 
His  favorite  poet  is  still  Fouqu€. 
Of  criticism  he  makes  no  mention, 
Since  all  such  matters  unworthy  attention 
He  leaves  to  his  grandmother,  HECATJS. 
He  praised  my  legal  efforts,  and  said 
That  he  also  when  younger  some  law  had  read, 
Remarking  that  friendship  like  mine  would  bo 
Au  acquisition,  and  bowed  to  me, — 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURXEY.  135 

Then  asked  if  we  had  not  met  before, 

At  the  Spanish  minister's  soiree  f 
And,  as  I  scanned  his  face  once  more, 

I  found  I  had  known  him  for  many  a  day ! 


38. 

5Ken(cf),  terfpotte  rttcfjt  ben  Seujel. 

"VTORTAL  !  sneer  not  at  the  Devil: 

Soon  thy  little  life  is  o'er ; 
And  eternal  grim  damnation 
Is  no  idle  tale  of  yore. 

Mortal !  pay  the  debts  thou  owest : 
Long  'twill  be  ere  life  is  o'er ; 

Many  a  time  thou  yet  must  borrow, 
As  thou  oft  hast  done  before. 


39. 


is  the  way  to  Bethlehem? 
Is  there  no  one  to  show  it?" 
So  asked  the  Three  Kings  from  the  Eastern  land : 
"Dear  children,  do  you  know  it?" 

Neither  old  nor  young  could  tell  them  the  road. 

The  kings  went  on.     Before  them 
There  went  a  beautiful  golden  star, 

Which  gleamed  in  its  glory  o'er  them. 


136  THE   HOMEWAKD  JOURNEY. 

The  star  stood  still  over  Joseph's  house : 
They  entered,  their  offerings  bringing. 

The  oxen  lowed,  the  Infant  cried, 
While  the  three  wise  kings  were  singing. 


40. 

TOetn  Hint,  ton:  ftarcn  itinfcer, 
3*ei  Winter  Elein  unb  frol). 

1Y/TY  child,  we  once  were  children, 
Two  children  gay  and  small ; 
We  crept  into  the  hen-house 
And  hid  ourselves,  heads  and  all. 

We  clucked  just  like  the  poultry; 

And  when  folks  came  by,  you  know, — 
Kickcry-kee! — they  started, 

And  thought  'twas  a  real  crow. 

The  chests  which  lay  in  our  court-yard 
We  papered  so  smooth  and  nice ; 

We  thought  they  were  splendid  houses, 
And  lived  in  them,  snug  as  mice. 

When  the  old  cat  of  our  neighbor 

Dropped  in  for  a  social  call, 
We  made  her  bows  and  courtesies, 

And  compliments,  and  all. 

We  asked  of  her  health,  and  kindly 
Inquired  how  all  had  sped  : — 

Since  then  to  many  a  tabby 
The  selfsame  things  we've  said. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  137 

And  oft,  like  good  old  people, 

We  talked  with  sober  tongue, 
Declaring  that  all  was  better 

In  the  days  when  we  were  young  ; — 

How  piety,  faith,  and  true  love 

Had  vanished  quite  away, 
And  how  dear  we  found  the  coffee, 

How  scarce  the  money,  to-day  ! 

So  all  goes  rolling  onward, 

The  merry  days  of  youth, — 
Money,  the  world  and  its  seasons, 

And  honesty,  love,  and  truth. 


41. 

£a3  £eti  ift  mit  tebriicft,  tmfc  fcfynlidj. 

"IVTY  heart  is  sad,  and  with  misgiving 

I  ponder  o'er  the  ancient  day 
When  this  poor  world  was  fit  to  live  in 
And  calmly  sped  the  time  away. 

Now  all  seems  changed  which  once  was  cherished : 
The  world  is  filled  with  care  and  dread  ; 

As  if  the  Lord  in  heaven  had  perished, 
And  down  below  the  Devil  were  dead. 

But  care  of  all  hath  so  bereft  us, 

So  little  pleasure  Life  can  give, 
That,  were  not  some  faint  Love  still  left  us, 

No  more  I'd  wish  on  Earth  to  live. 


138  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

42. 

SBie  bet  TOonb  fid)  leudjtenb  branget. 

A  S  the  summer  moon  shines  rising 

Through  the  dark  and  cloud-like  trees, 
So  my  soul  through  shadowy  memories 
Still  a  gleaming  picture  sees. 

All  upon  the  deck  were  seated, 
Proudly  sailing  on  the  Rhine ; 

And  the  shores  in  summer  verdure 
Gleamed  in  sunset's  crimson  shine. 

And  I  rested,  gently  musing, 

At  a  lovely  lady's  feet , 
And  her  dear  pale  face  was  gleaming 

In  the  sun-rays  soft  and  fleet. 

Lutes  were  ringing,  boys  were  singing, 
Wondrous  rapture  o'er  me  stole ; 

Bluer,  bluer  grew  the  heavens, 
Fuller,  higher,  swelled  my  soul. 

Like  a  legend,  wood  and  river, 
Hill  and  tower,  before  me  fly  ; 

And  I  see  the  whole,  reflected, 
In  the  lovely  lady's  eye. 

43. 

3m  Swum  lafc  id)  bic  (SclieMe. 

TN  dreams  I  saw  the  loved  ono, 
A  sorrowing,  wearied  form, 


TEE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  139 

Her  beauty  blanched  and  withered 
By  many  a  dreary  storm. 

A  babe  on  her  arm  she  carried, 

Another  by  hand  she  led  ; 
And  poverty  and  trouble 

In  glance  and  in  garb  I  read. 

She  trembled  through  the  market, 

And  face  to  face  we  met ; 
And  I  calmly  said,  while  sadly 

Her  eyes  on  mine  were  set, 

"Come  to  my  house,  poor  sufferer, 

For  you  are  pale  and  thin  ; 
And  for  you  by  my  labor 

Both  meat  and  drink  I'll  win. 

"And  to  your  little  children 

I'll  be  a  father  mild  ; 
But,  most  of  all, 7/0 ur  parent, 

My  poor  unhappy  child. 

"Nor  will  I  ever  whisper 

That  once  I  held  you  dear ; 
And  if  you  die  before  me, 

I'll  weep  upon  your  bier." 


44. 

ecurer  Jreunb,  Ira?  ?ctt  e3  nii|>en. 

of  mine,  why  are  you  ever 
Through  the  same  old  measures  moving  ? 


140  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

Will  you,  brooding,  sit  forever 
On  the  same  old  eggs  of  loving? 

'Tis  an  endless  incubation  ; 

From  their  eggs  the  chicks  scarce  risen, 
When  the  chirping  generation 

In  a  book  you  coop  and  prison. 

45. 

SBerbet  nut  nic^t  unijebulbijj. 

T)UT,  I  pray,  be  not  impatient 

At  the  same  old  chords  still  ringing, 
If  you  find  the  same  old  sorrows 
In  the  newest  songs  I'm  singing. 

Wait ;  for  ye  shall  yet  hear  fading 

All  this  echo  of  my  sorrow, 
When  a  fresher  spring  of  poems 

Bubbles  from  my  heart  to-morrow. 

46. 

91un  if!  c«  3cit,  baft  icJ)  tnit  SScrftanb. 

TT  is  time  that  my  mind  from  this  folly  I  free, — 

Yes,  time  I  were  guided  by  reason : 
You've  been  playing  the  part  of  an  actor  with  me, 
I  fear,  for  too  lengthened  a  season. 

In  the  warmest  style  of  the  highest  romance, 
Our  scenery  all  was  new-fangled  : 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOUKNEY.  141 

I  thought  but  of  lady,  of  helm,  and  of  lance, 
And  my  armor  was  splendidly  spangled. 

But  I  sigh  now  to  think  that  such  parts  I  could  fill, 

With  this  frippery  lying  before  me  ; 
And  a  feeling  as  though  I  played  comedy  still 

Conies  wretchedly  wandering  o'er  me. 

Ah,  Heaven  !  I  spoke  what  in  secret  I  felt  ; 

Unconscious  I  did  it,  and  jesting  ; 
As  the  Dying  Athlete  before  you  I  knelt, 

While  Death  in  my  own  heart  was  resting. 


47. 


rpHE  great  king  Wiswa-mitra 

Is  lost  in  trouble  now  ; 
For  he  through  strife  and  penance 
Would  win  Waschischta's  cow. 

0  great  king  Wiswa-mitra! 

Oh,  what  an  ass  art  thou 
To  bear  such  strife  and  penance 

All  for  a  single  cow  ! 

48. 

£er$,  mcin  ijet;,  jci  niiSjt  tcUommcn. 

TTEART,  my  heart,  oh,  be  not  shaken, 
And  still  calmly  bear  thy  pain  ! 
For  the  spring  will  bring  again 

What  a  dreary  winter's  taken. 


142  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

And  how  much  is  still  remaining, 

And  how  bright  the  world  still  beams ! 
And,  my  heart,  what  pleasant  seems 

Thou  mayst  love  with  none  complaining. 


49. 

J)u  lift  tote  eitu  SSIumc. 

rpHOU'RT  like  a  lovely  floweret, 

So  void  of  guile  or  art. 
I  gaze  upon  thy  beauty, 

And  grief  steals  o'er  my  heart. 

I  fain  would  lay,  devoutly, 
My  hands  upon  thy  brow, 

And  pray  that  God  will  keep  thee 
As  good  and  fair  as  now. 


50. 

fitnb  !  cS  Ivcirc  bctti  3?cttcrtcn. 


/"^IHILD!  it  were  your  utter  ruin, 

And  I  strive,  right  earnestly, 
That  your  gentle  heart  may  never 
Glow  with  aught  like  love  for  me. 

But  the  thought  that  'twere  so  easy 
Still  amid  my  dreams  will  move  me, 

And  I  still  am  ever  thinking 
That  'twere  sweet  to  make  you  love  me. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURXEY. 

51. 
Senn  it!)  auf  bent  Sagcr  iicgc. 


EN  on  my  bod  I'm  lying, 
At  night,  on  pillows  warm, 
There  ever  floats  before  mo 
A  sweet  and  gentle  form. 

But  soon  as  silent  slumber 
Has  closed  my  weary  eyes, 

Before  me,  in  a  vision, 
I  see  the  image  rise. 

Yet  with  the  dream  of  morning 

It  will  not  pass  away, 
For  I  bear  it  in  my  bosom 

Around,  the  live-long  day. 


ntit  bcm  tetttcn  OTunfcdjen. 


M 


"AIDEN  with  thy  mouth  of  roses, 

And  with  eyes  serene  and  bright! 
Thou,  my  little  darling  maiden, 
Dearest  to  my  heart  and  sight ! 

Long  the  winter  nights  are  growing  : — 
Would  I  might  forget  their  gloom, 

By  thee  sitting,  with  thee  chatting, 
In  thy  little  friendly  room ! 


144  THE   1IOMEWAIID   JOURNEY. 

Often  to  my  lips,  in  rapture, 
I  would  press  thy  snowy  hand, 

Often  with  my  eyes  bedewing 
Silently  that  darling  hand. 

53. 

SKag  ta  braujicn  Sdjnec  fief)  tljurmen. 

rpHOUGH,  without,  the  snow-drifts  tower, 
Though  hail  falls,  and  tempests  shower, 
On  the  window-pane  loud  rattling, 
Little  will  I  heed  their  battling ; 
For  her  form  will  ever  bring 
To  my  heart  the  joys  of  spring. 

54. 

SInbre  fcetcn  jut  SKabonne. 

"|\/rANY  pray  to  the  Madonna, 

Others  run  to  Paul  or  Peter : 
I  will  only  pray  to  you,  love, 
Fairest  sun  of  starry  women  ! 

Grant  me  kisses ! — you  have  won  me ! 
Oh,  be  merciful  and  gracious, 
Fairest  sun  among  the  maidens, 
'Neath  the  sun,  of  girls  the  fairest ! 

55. 

SBctrtetlj  mctn  tlaffcS  SSngefirfjt. 

A  ND  do  not  my  pale  cheeks  betray 
The  pains  at  heart  distressing  ? 


TIIE    HOMEAVAKD   JOURNEY.  115 

And  would  you  hear  so  proud  a  mouth 
The  beggar's  prayer  confessing  ? 

Ah  me  !  this  mouth  is  far  too  proud  ; 

It  knows  but  jests  and  kisses, 
And  may  have  spoken  mocking  words 

To  hide  the  heart's  distresses. 


56. 

Securer  greunb,  tu  tift  tctliett. 

TT\EAREST  friend,  you  are  in  love ; 

Tighter  draws  the  chain,  and  tighter ; 
In  your  head  'tis  getting  dark, 

While  your  heart  is  growing  lighter. 

Dearest  friend,  you  are  in  love ; 

Yet  from  confidence  you're  turning, 
When  I  see  your  glowing  heart 

Through  your  very  waistcoat  burning ! 


57. 

3<§  ttoUte  tet  til  treilen. 

T  FAIN  would  linger  near  thee, 

But,  when  I  sought  to  woo, 
There  was  no  time  to  hear  me  : 
There  was  "too  much  to  do." 

I  told  you,  shortly  after, 
That  all  your  own  I'd  be ; 


146  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

And,  with  a  peal  of  laughter, 
You  made  a  courtesy. 

At  last  you  did  confuse  me 
More  utterly  than  this  ; 

For  you  did  even  refuse  me 
A  trifling  parting  kiss ! 

Fear  not  that  I  shall  languish, 
Or  shoot  myself: — oh,  no! 

I've  gone  through  all  this  anguish 
Quite  often,  long  ago. 


58. 

6a£f>ite  fxnb  tic  Slugen  bcin. 

T>RIGHT  sapphires  are  your  beaming  eyes, 

Dear  eyes,  so  softly  greeting  : 
Ah  me !  thrice  happy  is  the  man 
Whom  they  with  love  are  meeting. 

Your  heart's  a  diamond,  bright  and  clear, 
Whence  rays  of  light  are  flowing  : 

Ah  me !  thrice  happy  is  the  man 
For  whom  with  love  they're  glowing. 

Your  lips  are  rubies,  melting  red ; 

No  brighter  need  we  seek  : 
Ah  me !  thrice  happy  is  the  man 

To  whom  with  love  they  speak. 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  117 

Oh,  if  I  knew  that  happy  man, 

Oh,  could  I  find  the  lover, 
Then  all  alone  in  the  gay  greenwood: 

His  joys  would  soon  be  over. 


59. 


T\7"ITH  love-vows  I  long  have  bound  me, 

Firmly  tied  me,  to  thy  heart ; 
Now,  with  my  own  meshes  round  me, 
Jesting  turns  to  pain  and  smart. 

But  if  thou — with  right  before  thee — 
Now  shouldst  turn  away  thy  head, 

Then  the  devil  would  soon  come  o'er  me, 
And,  by  Jove,  I'd  shoot  me  dead ! 


GO. 

JUt  fr.vimcntariicf)  ift  33elt  itnb  Settn. 

rpIIIS  world  and  this  life  are  so  scattered,  they  try  me ; 

And  so  to  a  German  professor  I'll  hie  me. 
He  can  well  put  all  the  fragments  together 

Into  a  system,  convenient  and  terse  ; 
While  with  his  night-cap  and  dressing-robe  tatters 

He'll  stop  up  the  chinks  of  the  wide  Universe. 

11 


148  THE   HOMEWAKD  JOURNEY. 

61. 

Sic  Ijaten  Ijcitt  SU-enb  ©efftlidiaft. 

rpO-NIGHT  they  give  a  party. 

The  house  gleams  bright  above ; 
And  across  the  lighted  window 
I  see  your  shadow  move. 

You  see  me  not  in  the  darkness ; 

I  stand  alone,  apart ; 
Still  less  can  you  cast  your  glances 

Into  my  gloomy  heart. 

This  gloomy  heart  still  loves  you  ; 

It  loves, — though  long  forgot. 
Breaking,  convulsed,  and  bleeding, 

Alas !  you  see  it  not ! 


3rf>  h-oUt'  meine  £*mcnen  frgffitn 
Sid)  alT  in  cin  etnjtjiei  £>crt. 

T  WOULD  I  could  blend  my  sorrows 

All  into  a  single  word  : 
It  should  fly  on  the  wilful  breezes 
As  wildly  as  a  bird. 

They  should  carry  to  thee,  my  loved  one, 
That  saddest,  strangest  word  : 

At  every  hour  it  would  meet  thee, 
In  every  place  bo  heard. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  149 

And  as  soon  as  those  eyes  in  slumber 

Had  dimmed  their  starry  gleam, 
That  word  of  my  sorrow  should  follow 

Down  to  thy  deepest  dream. 


G3. 

Tu  fcrtft  JMamcmtcrt  linb  Ifcrlcit, 
£aft  x'lUcs  r.'aJ  i'icnid-cn  tcjcl-r'. 

U  hast  diamonds,  and  dresses,  and  jewels, 
And  all  that  a  mortal  could  crave ; 
Thou  hast  eyes  that  are  fairer  than  any, 

My  dearest ! — what  more  wouldst  thou  have  ? 

To  those  eyes  which  are  brighter  than  jewels 
I  have  written — both  lively  and  grave — 

An  army  of  poems  immortal, 

My  dearest ! — what  more  wouldst  thou  have  ? 

Ah !  those  eyes  which  are  brighter  than  diamonds 
Have  brought  me  wellnigh  to  the  grave  : 

I  am  tortured,  tormented,  and  ruined, 
My  dearest ! — what  more  wouldst  thou  have  ? 

64. 

Set  jum  cvftcn  Stale  Hctt. 

TTE  who  for  the  first  time  loves, 

Though  unloved,  is  still  a  god; 
But  the  man  who  loves  a  second, 
And  in  vain,  must  be  a  fool. 


150  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

Such  a  fool  am  I,  now  loving 
Once  again,  without  return  : 
Sun  and  moon  and  stars  are  smiling, 
And  I  smile  with  them,— and  perish. 


65. 

3u  bet  Stmfcett  unb  bet  glcmljeit 
letnet  £ecle  yajjte  niiljt. 

"^"0 !   the  tameness  and  the  sameness 

Of  your  soul  would  not  agree 
With  my  own  soul's  ruder  braveness, 
Which  o'er  rocks  went  leaping  free. 

Your  love-paths  were  graded  turnpikes : 
Now  with  husband,  every  day, 

Arm-in-arm  I  see  you  walking 
Bravely, — in  the  family  way ! 


66. 

©aten  wit  Slatf)  unb  gute  Se^ttn. 

rpHEY  gave  me  advice  which  I  scarcely  heeded, 

Piled  on  me  praises  I  never  needed, 
Said  that  I  only  should  "wait  awhile," 
Offered  their  patronage,  too,  with  a  smile. 

But,  with  all  their  honor  and  approbation, 
I  should  long  ago  have  died  of  starvation, 
Had  there  not  come  an  excellent  man, 
Who  bravely  to  help  me  along  began. 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  151 

Good  follow! — he  got  me  the  food  I  ate; 
His  kindness  and  care  I  shall  never  forget: 
Yet  I  cannot  embrace  him,  though  other  folks  can, 
For  I  mvsclf  am  this  excellent  man ! 


67. 

Eicfcn  UeOenSnjurb'gen  J;"";!1'":!- 

T  CAN  never  speak  too  highly 

Of  this  amiable  young  fellow ; 
Oft  lie  treated  me  to  oysters, 

Good  old  hock,  and  cordials  mellow. 

Neatly  fit  his  coat  and  trousers  ; 

His  cravats  are  worth  admiring ; 
And  he  sees  me  every  morning, 

Of  my  state  of  health  inquiring, 

Of  my  great  renown  still  speaking, 
Of  my  wit  and  condescension, 

And  to  aid  me  or  to  serve  me 
Does  his  best  without  pretension. 

Every  evening  to  the  ladies, 
In  the  tones  of  one  inspired, 

lie  declaims  my  "heavenly  poems, 
Which  the  world  has  so  admired." 

Oh,  but  is  it  not  refreshing 

Still  to  find  such  persons  flying, — 
And  in  times  like  these,  when  truly 

All  the  better  sort  seem  dying  ? 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

68. 
TOir  ttSumt':  id)  bin  bet  liete  (Sett. 

T  DREAMED  that  I  was  Lord  of  all, 

High  up  in  heaven  sitting, 
With  cherubim  who  praised  my  song 
Around  in  glory  flitting. 

And  cakes  I  ate,  and  sugar-plums, 
Worth  many  a  shining  dollar  ; 

And  claret-punch  I  also  drank, 
With  never  a  bill  to  follow. 

And  yet  ennui  vexed  me  sore: 

I  longed  for  earthly  revel ; 
And,  were  I  not  the  Lord  himself, 

I'd  gladly  been  the  Devil. 

"Come,  trot,  tall  Angel  Gabriel, 
To  thee  broad  wings  are  given  ; 

Go  find  my  dearest  friend  Eugene, 
And  bring  him  up  to  heaven  ! 

"  Ask  not  for  him  in  lecture-rooms, 
But  where  Tokay  inspires  ; 

Seek  him  not  in  the  Hedwig's  church, 
Seek  him  at  Ma'mselle  Meyer's !" 

Abroad  he  spreads  his  mighty  wings, 
To  earth  his  course  descends ; 

He  catches  up  the  astonished  youth 
Right  from  among  his  friends. 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  153 

"  Yes,  youth,  I  now  am  Lord  of  all, 

The  earth  is  my  possession  ; 
I  always  told  you  I  was  bound 

To  rise  in  my  profession. 

"And  miracles  I  too  can  work, 

To  set  you  wild  with  pleasure : 
And  now  I'll  make  the  town  Ix-Ix* 

Rejoice  beyond  all  measure. 

"  For  every  stone  which  paves  the  street 

Shall  now  be  split  in  two, 
And  in  the  midst  shall  sparkle  bright 

An  oyster  fresh  as  dew. 

"A  gentle  shower  of  lemon-juice 

Shall  give  the  oysters  savor  ; 
The  gutters  of  the  streets  must  run 

With  hock  of  extra  flavor." 

How  the  Ix-Ixers  go  to  work ! 

What  cries  of  joy  they  utter! 
The  council  and  the  aldermen 

Are  swilling  up  the  gutter. 

And  how  the  poets  all  rejoice, 

To  see  things  done  so  neatly ! 
The  ensigns,  and  lieutenants  too, 

Have  cleaned  the  streets  completely. 


*  Or  X,  x.     In  one  edition  HF.IXE  calls  this  town  Berlin. 

TRANSLATOR. 


154  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

The  wisest  are  the  officers  ; 

For,  speculation  scorning, 
They  sagely  say,  "Such  miracles 

Don't  happen  every  morning." 


69. 

S3on  fdjcnen  Sipjien  fotijctranji,  oetiiefcttt. 

T^ROM  sweetest  lips  have  I  been  forced,  and  driven 

From  fairest  arms  and  beauty  captivating : 
Long  had  I  gladly  rested  in  this  heaven, 
But — with  his  horses  stood  the  post-boy,  waiting! 

And  such  is  life,  my  child  ; — an  endless  plaining, 

A  long  adieu,  a  lasting  parting  hour. 
Could  not  your  heart  charm  mine  into  remaining  ? 

Could  not  your  glances  keep  me  by  their  power? 


70. 

23it  fulirrn  aUein  Im  bunfcln 
spoftrcaflen  bie  ganje  3Jad;t. 

rode  in  the  dark  post-carriage, 
We  travelled  all  night  alone  ; 
We  slept  and  we  jested  together, 
We  laughed  until  morning  shone. 

But  as  daylight  came  dawning  o'er  us, 
My  dear,  how  we  started  to  find 


THE    HOMEWARD    JOURNEY.  155 

Between  us  a  traveller,  named  CUPIP, 
Who  had  ventured  on  "going  it  blind"!* 


71. 

Jos  «cis  Ocit,  Ice  ft*  tit  tcH; 
£mic  emquattirct  fcal. 

T  ORD  knows  where  the  wild  young  hussy 

Whom  I  seek  has  settled  down. 
Swearing  at  the  rain  and  weather, 
I  have  scoured  through  all  the  town. 


I  have  run  from  inn  to  tavern, — - 
Ne'er  a  bit  of  news  I  gain, — 

And  of  every  saucy  waiter 

I've  inquired, — and  all  in  vain. 


*  Df>ch  als  es  Mtryrns  tagte, 

Mfin  Kind,  wie  staunten  u'ir! 
D?nn  zicischen  vns  sass  Amor, 
Der  Uindc  fassagier. 

I  have  heard  "a  blind  passenger''  described  as  the  one  who  sits 
at  the  end  of  the  Eilwagm  (or  Diligence),  where  there  is  no  win 
dow.  But,  in  popular  parlance,  li  the  blind  passenger"  is  one  who — 
to  translate  a  bit  of  German  slang  by  its  American  equivalent — 
maybe  termed  a  "  self-elected  dead-head,"  an  individual  who  slips 
in  and  out  of  an  entertainment,  coach,  steamboat,  or  the  like, 
without  paying  for  his  admission,  or  one  not  included  in  the 
regular  list. 

Literally  this  verse  reads,  "But  when  day  downed,  my  child, 
how  we  were  astonished!  for  between  us  sat  Am'jr,  the  blind  pas 
senger."— TRANSLATOR. 


156  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

There  she  is  !  at  yonder  window,- — • 
Smiling,  beckoning  to  me.  Well, 

How  was  I  to  know  you  quartered, 
Miss,  in  such  a  grand  hotel  ? 


72. 

Unb  bift  tu  trft  mein  cI)UcJ>  BciK 

"V17HEN  you  become  my  married  wife, 

You'll  be  my  envied  treasure  ; 
You'll  have  the  very  merriest  life, 
With  nothing  but  joy  and  pleasure. 

And  if  the  very  devil  you  raise, 

I'll  bear  it  in  silent  sorrow; 
But  if  you  fail  my  verse  to  praise, 

I'll  be  divorced  o'  the  morrow. 


73. 

JSte  fcunfle  Sraumt  ficfien 
!Tie  £aujer  in  lartger  iReify'- 

T  IKE  dusky  dreams,  the  houses 

Stand  in  a  lengthened  row ; 

And,  wrapped  in  my  Spanish  mantle, 

Through  the  shadow  I  silently  go. 

The  tower  of  the  old  cathedral 
Announces  that  midnight  has  come; 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  157 

And  now,  with  her  charms  and  her  kisses, 
My  dearest  is  waiting  at  home. 

The  moon  is  my  boon  companion : 

She  cheerily  lights  my  way, 
Till  I  come  to  the  house  of  my  true  love  ; 

And  then  to  the  moon  I  say, 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  light,  old  comrade ; 

Receive  my  parting  bow; 
For  the  rest  of  the  night  I'll  excuse  you : 

Go  shine  upon  other  folks  now. 

"And  if  you  should  light  on  a  lover 

Who  drearily  sorrows  alone, 
Console  him  as  you  have  consoled  me 

In  the  wearisome  times  long  gone." 


74. 

3rt  ten  fiuffen,  ttrlrfje  SJii.je. 

IIAT  lies  are  hid  in  kisses, 

What  delight  in  mere  parade  ! 
To  betray  may  have  its  blisses, 
But  more  blest  is  the  betrayed. 

Say  what  thou  wilt,  my  fairest, 
Still  I  know  what  thou'lt  receive : 

I'll  believe  just  what  thou  swearest, 
And  will  swear  what  thou'lt  believe. 


158  THE   HOMEWARD  JOUKNEY. 

75. 

Tluf  fcciuem((i)necreciiicn  Sujcit. 

TTPON  your  snowy  bosom 
I  laid  my  weary  head, 
And  secretly  I  listened 

To  what  the  heart-throbs  said. 

The  blue  hussars  come  riding, 
With  trumpets,  to  the  gate ; 

And  to-morrow  she  who  loves  me 
Will  seek  another  mate. 

But,  though  you  leave  to-morrow, 
To-day  you  still  must  rest ; 

And  in  those  lovely  arms,  love, 
Will  I  be  doubly  blest. 


76. 

(58  Majen  tie  Mauen  $ufarcn. 

T)LUE  hussars  with  their  trumpets  loud  sounding 

Through  the  town-gate  are  riding  away  : 
So  again  to  you,  darling,  I'm  bringing 
Fresh  roses, — a  lovely  bouquet. 

Oh,  that  was  the  craziest  business  ! 

Much  trouble  in  every  part ; 
And  many  a  dashing  blade  was  "drawn" 

And  "quartered"  in  your  heart. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY'.  159 


T  TOO,  in  life's  early  season, 

Had  my  pains  beyond  all  reason, 

From  love's  burning  mood  ; 
But  now  I  find  that  wood  is  dear, 
The  fire  burns  lower  every  year, 

Ma  foi  !  —  and  that  is  good. 

Think  of  that,  my  dear  young  beauty; 
Dry  your  tears,  since  joy  is  duty  ; 

Heed  no  false  alarms  : 
While  your  veins  with  young  life  quiver, 
Let  the  old  love  fade  forever, 

Ma  foi  !  —  in  my  fond  arms. 

78. 

Eelttn  fiafrt  ifyr  mid)  tcrftiinten. 

Q  ELDOM  did  we  know  each  other, 

Seldom  were  you  understood  ; 
But  our  souls  soon  came  together 
When  we  met  in  filth  and  mud. 

79. 

Jed}  bit  tfaftraten  flajten. 

TTOW  the  eunuchs  were  complaining 

At  the  roughness  of  my  song  ! 
Complaining  and  explaining 

That  my  voice  was  much  too  strong. 


160  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

Then,  delicately  thrilling, 

They  all  began  to  sing : 
Like  crystal  was  their  trilling, 

So  pure  it  seemed  to  ring. 

They  sang  of  passion  sweeping 
In  hot  floods  from  the  heart : 

The  ladies  all  were  weeping, 
In  a  rapturous  sense  of  Art ! 

80. 

3d)  $al>'  Gucfj  im  teflon  3"'<  teilaffcn. 

'HHWAS  just  in  the  midst  of  July  that  I  left  yon, 

And  now  in  mid-winter  I  meet  you  once  mure ; 
Then,  as  we  parted,  with  heat  ye  were  glowing, 
Now  ye  are  cool,  and  the  fever  is  o'er. 

Once  more  I  leave.  Should  I  come  again  hither, 
Then  you  will  be  neither  burning  nor  cold  : 

Over  your  graves — well-a-day  ! — I'll  be  treading, 
And  find  that  my  own  heart  is  weary  and  old  ! 

81. 

JJeben  mtr  ftofynt  3~on  ^entiqucj. 

"VTEAR.  to  me  lives  Don  Henriquez, 
As  "the  handsome"  celebrated: 
Neighboring  are  our  apartments, 
By  a  thin  wall  separated. 

Salamanca's  loveliest  ladies, 

When  he  walks,  arc  gloating  o'er  him, — 


THE    HOMEWARD    JOURNEY. 

Rattling  spurs  and  curled  mustachios, 
And  his  hounds,  of  course,  before  him. 

But  in  silent  summer  evenings 

Calm  at  homo  he  sits,  half  dreaming, 

Touching  his  guitar  and  humming, 
O'er  his  soul  sweet  fancies  streaming. 

Now  he  sweeps  the  strings  more  strongly, 
Loudly  thrill  his  wild  romances : — 

Worse  to  me  than  drunken  headaches 
Are  his  snarling  quavering  fancies  ! 


82. 

Huf  ben  EStten  ealamanfa'S. 

"DOUXD  the  walls  of  Salamanca 

Soft  the  summer  breeze  is  blowing : 
There  I  wander  with  my  Donna, 
When  the  evening  red  is  glowing. 

Eound  the  lady's  slender  body 
My  embracing  arm  still  lingers  ; 

And  I  feel  her  bosom  proudly 
Swelling,  with  my  happy  fingers. 

Yet  a  murmur,  as  of  anguish, 

Through  the  linden-boughs  is  streaming 
And  the  gloomy  stream  below  us 

Murmurs,  as  if  evil  dreaming. 


162  THE   HOMEWARD   JOUKNEY. 

All,  Sefiora !  dark  forebodings 

Of  "  expulsion"  round  are  stalking : 

On  the  walls  of  Salamanca 
We  no  more  can  then  go  walking. 


83. 

SBift  bu  ttit{K$  mtt  fo  fcinbfi$? 

"]^"OW  then,  do  you  really  hate  me? 

Are  you  really  changed  so  sadly  ? 
I'll  complain  to  everybody 

That  you've  treated  me  so  badly. 

O  ye  red  lips,  so  ungrateful, 

Say,  how  could  ye  speak  unkindly 

Of  the  man  who  kissed  so  warmly, 
And  of  him  who  loved  so  blindly  ? 


84. 

21(3),  bie  ?lugen  ftnb  t$  hjiebet. 

QTILL  the  same  those  eyes  beguiling, 

Which  once  lent  to  love  completeness ; 
Still  the  same  those  soft  lips  smiling, 
Which  to  life  gave  all  its  sweetness. 

Still  the  same  that  voice,  whose  music 
I  have  listened  to  with  yearning : 

But  I  am  the  same  no  longer, 
Changed  so  strangely  since  returning. 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  163 

By  the  fair  white  arms  so  firmly, 

Passionately,  now  surrounded, 
I  upon  her  heart  am  lying, 

Melancholy  and  confounded. 


QCAUCE  had  we  met,  when,  in  tones  and  in  glances, 
I  saw  that  you  liked  me,  and  nothing  was  missed; 
And  had  not  your  mother  been  there  with  her  fancies, 
Right  certain  I  am  that  at  once  we'd  have  kissed. 

To-rnorrow  I'll  leave,  while  the  world  will  be  sleeping; 

Away,  as  of  old,  on  my  journey  I'll  go; 
And  then  my   blonde  girl    from   the   window  '11   lie 
peeping, 

And  glances  of  love  at  the  window  I'll  throw. 

86. 

Uctct  tic  '?ctge  itcijt  (djoit  tie  Settne. 

rPHE  sunlight  is  stealing  o'er  mountain  and  river, 
The  cries  of  the  flocks  are  heard  over  the  plain  ; 
My  love  and  my  lamb  and  rny  darling  forever, 
How  glad  I  would  be  could  I  see  thee  again! 

Upwards  I  look,  and  with  glances  full  loving, 
"Darling,  adieu!  I  must  wander  from  thee." 

Vainly  I  wait,  for  no  curtain  is  moving: 

fc>he  lies  and  she  sleeps,  and  she's  dreaming  of  me. 
12 


164  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 


Sdacfyt  liegt  auf  ben  ftcmbcn  JScjeit. 

f\N  strange  roads  the  night  is  lying, 

Weariness  and  pain  before  me  ! 
When,  like  blessings  softly  flying, 
The  sweet  moon-rays  quiver  o'er  mo 

Gentle  moon,  by  that  bright  gleaming 
Nightly  terrors  soon  you  banish  ; 

And  my  eyes  with  tears  are  streaming, 
As  my  fears  and  sorrows  vanish. 


3u  4iaOe  auf  fccin  SNarft. 

TN  the  market-place  of  Halle 

There  stand  two  mighty  lions  : 
O  thou  lion-pride  of  Halle, 
How  greatly  art  thou  tamed  ! 

In  the  market-place  of  Halle 

There  stands  a  mighty  giant ; 
He  hath  a  sword,  yet  never  stirs, — 

He's  petrified  with  terror. 

In  the  market-place  of  Halle 

A  mighty  church  is  standing, 
Where  the  Burschenschaft  and  the  Landsmann- 
schaft* 

Have  plenty  of  room  for  praying. 

*  Student  Associations,  the  Bur&chenschaft  being  general  and 
political  in  its  objects,  while  the  Landsmannschaftcr  are  local. 

TRANSLATOR. 


THE    UOMEWAKD   JOURNEY.  105 

89. 
Tammcrnb  licjt  bet  Eommetatcnfc. 

CUMMER  eve  with  day  is  striving, 
Softly  gaining  wood  and  meadow ; 
Mid  blue  heavens  the  golden  moonlight 

Gleams,  in  perfumed  air  reviving. 

Crickets  round  the  brooks  are  cheeping  ; 

Something  stirs  amid  the  water  ; 

And  the  wanderer  hears  a  plashing, 
And  a  breath  amid  the  sleeping : 

There  alone,  beside  the  river, 
See  !  a  fair  Undine  is  bathing : 
Arms  and  bosom,  white  and  lovely, 

In  the  shimmering  moon-rays  quiver. 


"PiEATII  is  a  cool  and  pleasant  night, 


Life  is  a  sultry  day. 


Tis  growing  dark, — -I  m  wfarv  ; 


For  day  has  tired  me  with  his  light. 


Over  my  bed  a  fair  tree  gleams, 
And  in  it  sits  a  nightingale  : 
Flie  sings  of  naught  save  love: 

I  hear  it  even  in  dreams. 


166  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

91. 

Sufl',  wo  ift  bcin  fd'SncS  ?ictd)cn. 

O  AY,  where  is  your  own  fair  darling, 

Whom  you  once  were  sweetly  singing, 
When  the  flames  of  magic  power 

Strangely  through  your  heart  were  springing? 

Ah  !  those  flames  no  more  are  burning, 
And  my  cold  heart  feels  no  flashes, 

And  this  book's  the  urn  containing 
Of  that  love  the  dreary  ashes. 

92. 
THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THE  GODS. 

£cl  2)!ai  ift  ta  mit  jcincit  f,eltcn  Vid;.tm. 

rpHE  month  of  May  with  golden  gleams  is  coming, 

With  silken  breezes  and  with  spicy  odors, 
And,  loving,   laughing,  lures  with  blanching  blos 
soms, 

From  deep-blue  violet  eyes  by  thousands  greets  us, 
And  spreads  around  her  green  and  flowery  carpet, 
With  warp  of  sunshine  and  the  morning  dew, 
And  calls  around  her  darling  human  children. 
Even  her  first  call  the  bashful  folk  obey  : 
The  men  put  on  their  nankeen  pantaloons, 
And  Sunday  coats  with  glittering  golden  buttons, 
The  darnes  adorn  themselves  with  innocent  white, 
Young  men  curl  up  with  care  their  spring  moustaches, 
Young  ladies  let  their  bosoms  heave  in  freedom, 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOUEXEY.  1G7 

And  the  town-poets  put  into  their  pockets 
Paper  and  pencil  and  lorgnette,  and  joyous 
Go  to  the  gate  the  various  moving  crowd, 
And,  on  the  green  bank  comfortably  lying, 
They  wonder  at  the  trees  industrious  growing, 
Play  with  the  delicate  many-colored  flowers, 
List  to  the  merry  birds  above  them  singing, 
And  gayly  whoop  to  the  blue  heaven's  arch. 

To  me  the  May  came  too.     Three  times  she  knocked 
Upon  my  door,  and  cried,  "  Lo,  I  arn  May. 

0  poor,  pale  dreamer,  come,  and  I  will  kiss  you!" 

1  kept  my  door  fast  bolted,  and  I  cried, 
"In  vain  you  tempt  me  forth,  0  evil  guest! 

I  have  seen  through  you,  and  I  have  seen  through 
Tiie  fabric  of  the  world,  and  seen  too  much 
And  far  too  deeply,  and  all  joys  are  gone, 
And  endless  pains  are  flowing  through  my  heart. 
I  have  seen  through  the  shells,  so  hard  and  stony, 
Of  human  homes,  and  hearts  which  are  called  hu 
man, 

And  seen  in  either  lies,  deceit,  and  sorrow. 
I  read  in  thoughts  of  men  upon  their  faces 
Much  that  is  evil.     In  the  virgin's  blushes 
I  see  hot  lust  in  secret  yearnings  quiver ; 
And  on  the  proud  head  of  a  youth  inspired 
I  see  the  motley  and  the  mocking  fool's  cap ; 
And  folly's  fevered  forms  and  sickly  shadows 
I  see  upon  this  earth  ;  and  so  I  know  not 
If  earth's  a  house  for  lazars,  or  a  mad-house. 
And  I  can  see  through  the  old  earth's  foundations, 
As  though  they  were  of  crystal, — and  the  horrors 


168  THE   HOMEWARD   JOUHXEY. 

Which  with  a  joyous  verdure  still  to  cover 
Sweet  May  strives  all  in  vain.    I  see  the  dead,  too; 
There  they  all  lie,  hid  in  their  narrow  coffins, 
With  stiff  and  folded  hands,  and  eyes  wide  open, 
While  through  their  yellow  lips  the  worms  are  creep 
ing. 

I  see  the  son  with  a  gay  sweetheart  sitting, 
And  all  in  joke,  upon  a  father's  grave : — 
The  nightingales  sing  mocking  songs  around  them  ; 
The  softest  meadow-flowers  laugh  with  malice  : 
The  poor  dead  father  turns  him  in  his  grave, 
And  our  old  mother  earth  in  sharp  pain  quivers. 

Poor  earth  of  ours,  how  well  I  know  thy  torture ! 

I  see  the  hot  fire  in  thy  bosom  heaving, 

I  see  thy  thousand  veins  in  anguish  bleeding, 

And  mark  thy  gaping  wounds  again  torn  open, 

And  wild  up-streaming  flame  and  smoke  and  blood. 

I  see  thy  scornful,  daring,  giant  children, 

The  dark  primeval  brood,  from  black  abysses 

Rising,  and  rising  still,  flashing  red  torches, 

Eaising  their  iron  ladders  ever  up, 

And  storming  headlong  to  the  towers  of  heaven, 

Their  black   dwarfs   hurrying   on.      With    thunder 

crashing, 

The  golden  stars  shiver  to  shining  dust, 
And  whirl  away  to  nothing ;  bolder  still, 
They  tear  the  curtain  from  the  tent  of  GOD  : 
The  gentle  angels  wail,  and  fly  in  swarms 
Headlong  in  horror.     And  upon  his  throne 
The  pale  GOD  sits,  and  casts  afar  his  crown, 
And  tears  his  hair  while  the  hell-host  roars  on, 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  169 

And  the  mad  giants  cast  their  blood-red  torches 

O'er  the  wide  realm  of  heaven,  and  the  goblins 

Cut  with  keen  scourging  flames  the  angels'  backs, 

Who  twist  and  twine  in  very  agony, 

And  then  are  slung  afar  by  their  fair  tresses. 

And  I  do  see  my  guardian  angel  there, 

With  his  fair  flowing  locks  and  dear  sweet  features, 

The  smile  of  love  eternal  on  his  lips, 

And  heaven's  bliss  beaming  in  those  blue  eyes ; 

And,  lo !  a  hateful,  horrid,  swarthy  devil 

Up-tears  him  from  the  earth,  my  poor,  pale  angel, 

And,  grinning,  glares  upon  his  noble  figure, 

And  twines  around  in  tenderest  embraces ! 

A  yelling  scream  pierces  the  universe  : 

Their  pillars  breaking,  Earth  and  Heaven  mingle, 

And  now  the  ancient  Night  is  lord  of  all. 


93. 
KATCLIFF. 

Scr  Iraumgctt  I-tctdjte  mid)  in  cine  ?anMdjaft. 

rpHE  Dream-God  brought  me  to  a  rural  scene, 

Where  weeping  willows  waved  a  welcome  to  me 
With  all  their  long  green  arms,  and  where  the  flowers 
With  shrewd,  sweet  sister-glances  still  observed  me, 
Where  the  birds'  songs  seemed  known  long,  long  ago, 
And  even  the  distant  barking  of  the  dogs 
Was  something  heard  before  in  sweet  old  times ; 
And  there  were  forms  and  voices  kindly  greeting, 
Like  a  long-absent  friend  :  yet  all  around  me 


170  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

Did  seem  so  strange,  so  wonderfully  strange  ! 
I  stood  before  a  handsome  inland  dwelling, 
And  all  my  brain  was  calm,  though  in  my  bosom 
There  was  a  wild  commotion  :  yet  quite  calm 
I  shook  the  dust  out  of  my  travelling  garments, 
Harsh  rang  the  door-bell,  and  the  door  unclose'd. 

And  there  were  men  and  women, — many  faces 
Known  in  the  olden  time.     A  silent  sorrow 
Lay  with  a  shy  and  secret  terror  on  them, 
And,  strangely  moved,  they  looked,  almost  with  pity, 
Upon  me,  until  I  myself  was  moved 
As  with  foreboding  of  an  unknown  evil. 
Old  Margaret  I  knew  at  the  first  glance, 
And  looked  inquiringly  ;  and  yet  she  spoke  not. 
"Where  is  Maria?"  I  asked  ;  and  still  she  spoke  not, 
But  gently  took  my  hand,  at  length,  and  led  me, 
Through  many  a  long  and  lighted-up  apartment, 
Where  a  dead  silence  tempered  pomp  and  pride, 
Until  I  came  unto  a  darksome  chamber, 
And  showed  me,  with  her  face  all  turned  away, 
The  form  of  one  who  on  the  sofa  sat. 
"Are  you  Maria?"  I  asked, — and  inwardly 
I  was  myself  astonished  at  the  firmness 
With  which  I  spoke.     Like  stone  or  metal 
There  rang  a  voice:  "That  is  what  people  call  me." 
A  cutting  agony  froze  through  my  veins, 
For  that  cold,  hollow  tone  was  still  the  voice— 
Or  what  had  been  the  sweet  voice — of  Maria ! 
Yes,  and  that  woman,  in  faded  lilac  gown 
Cast  on  so  slovenly,  with  hanging  breasts, 
With  staring,  glassy  eyes,  with  every  muscle 


THE    HOMEWARD    JOl'RXEY.  171 

Of  the  white  face  so  leather-like  and  dead, — • 

Ah]  and  that  woman  once  had  been  the  fair, 

The  blooming,  gentle,  beautiful  Maria! 

"You  have  been  travelling  long,"  she  cried,  aloud 

And  with  a  cold,  unpleasant  forwardness  : 

"You  don't  seem  quite  so  loving,  my  good  friend ; 

You  are  in  health,  and  those  firm  loins  and  calves 

Show  a  good,  solid  state."     A  sweetish  smile 

Then  flitted  round  her  pale  and  yellow  mouth. 

In  my  confusion  there  escaped  the  words, 

"Thej-  tell  me  you  are  married."    "  Yes, — it's  true!" 

She  said,  indifferently,  and  with  a  smile : 

"  I've  got  a  wooden  stick  in  leather  cased 

Which  calls  itself  a  husband ! — Lord  ! — but  wood 

Is  wood,  and  nothing  else."   And  then  she  laughed 

Harshly  and  contradictingly,  till  I 

Felt  a  cold  terror  running  through  my  soul, 

And  the  doubt  seized  on  me, — Are  those  the  lips, 

The  virgin-blossom  lips,  of  my  Maria? 

But  then  she  rose  in  haste,  and  quickly  caught 

Her  Cashmere  from  a  chair,  and  cast  it  on 

Around  her  neck,  then  hung  her  on  my  arm, 

And  through  the  open  door  she  led  the  way 

Through  field  and  grove  and  glen,  and  ever  on. 

The  crimson-glowing  disk  of  the  late  sun 
Was  sweeping  down,  flashing  a  purple  dream 
Upon  the  trees  and  flowers  and  the  fair  stream 
Which  far  away  majestically  flowed. 
"See  how  the  great  gold  eye  is  shimmering 
In  the  blue  water!"  cried  Maria,  in  haste. 
"  Be  silent,  you  poor  creature!"  I  replied, 


172  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

Seeing  unearthly  shades  in  the  dim  light: 

Strange  cloudy  forms  winding  in  fairy  wise 

Were  flitting  dreamily  above  the  fields, 

Ever  with  soft  white  spirit  arms  embracing ; 

And  tenderly  the  violets  looked  on  them, 

While  all  the  lily-cups  waved  down  together ; 

Voluptuous  heat  in  all  the  roses  glowed, 

The  pinks  seemed  flaming  in  their  very  breath, 

And  all  the  flowers  were  flushed  with  strong  perfume, 

And  all  of  them  in  amorous  rapture  wept, 

And  all  of  them  cried  out,  "0  Love!   Love!  Love!" 

The  butterflies  came  fluttering,  and  the  bright 

Gold-beetles  hummed  their  droning  elfin  lay  ; 

The  evening  breezes  rustled,  and  the  oaks 

Whispered,  while  melting  sang  the  nightingale  ; 

And,  mid  the  whispering,  rustling,  singing  sounds, 

With  cold,  unmusical,  metallic  voice 

The  faded  woman  chattered  by  my  side : 

"  I  know  your  deeds  by  night  up  in  the  castle. 

The  slender  shadow's  a  good-natured  thing, 

That  nods  assent  to  every  thing  you  will, 

And  Blue  Coat! — he's  an  angel;  but  the  Red, 

With  a  bare  sword,  hates  you  with  all  his  heart." 

And  many  other  strangely-mingled  words 

She  chattered  without  pause,  and  then  sat  down, 

Wearied,  beside  me,  on  the  mossy  bench 

Which  stands  so  low  beneath  the  old  oak-tree. 

And  there  we  sat  together,  sad  and  still. 
Each  looked  at  each,  and  either  sadder  grew. 
The  oak-tree  rustled  as  with  dying  sighs  ; 
In  agony  the  nightingale  sang  down. 


THE    HOMEWARD    JOURNEY.  IT! 

But  a  red  light  came  shining  through  the  leaves 
And,  flickering,  flashed  across  her  cold  white  face, 
Awaking  a  strange  glow  in  the  glassy  eyes, 
And  with  the  old  sweet  voice  again  she  spoke: 
"  How  did  you  know  my  fearful  misery  ? 
I  read  it  lately  in  your  wild,  sad  songs." 

An  icy  coldness  crept  through  all  my  breast ; 
At  my  own  madness  I  was  terrified, 
Which  made  of  me  a  seer.     Darkness  rushed  in  ; 
And,  in  my  horror,  I  awoke  from  sleep. 

94. 
DOXXA  CLARA. 


TN  the  pleasant  twilight  garden 

The  Alcalde's  daughter's  straying : 
Trump  and  drum  from  distant  towers 
Send  their  music  to  the  maiden. 

"I  am  weary  of  the  dances, 
Of  the  flattery  I'm  weary, 
And  of  merry  knights  comparing 
Me  to  the  bright  sun, — so  courtly  ! 

"Yes,  of  all  things  I  am  weary, 
Since  by  moonlight  gliding  softly 
I  first  saw  the  knight  whose  lute-play 
Nightly  to  the  window  brought  me. 

"  As  he  stood  so  tall  and  stately, 
And  his  gleaming  glances  darted 


174  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

From  his  pale  and  noble  features, 

He  was  like  Saint  George  the  Warder." 

So  reflected  Donna  Clara, 
And,  while  musing,  bowed  her  forehead. 
Looking  up,  she  saw  the  handsome 
Unknown  knight,  who  stood  before  her, 

Whispering  love  with  love's  caresses, 
Straying  where  the  moon  shines  sweetest, 
Where  the  breeze  blows  sweet  assurance, 
Fairy-like  the  roses  greet  them. 

Fairy-like  the  roses  greet  them, 
Like  love's  messengers  red-glowing. 
"But  I  beg  you,  darling,  tell  me 
Why  your  cheeks  are  flushed  and  rosy." 

"A  mosquito  stung  me,  darling  ; 
And  they  are  in  summer  weather 
Quite  as  hateful  things  as  though  they 
All  were  long-nosed  Jewish  wretches." 

"Never  mind  the  stings  or  Jews,  love," 
Said  the  knight,  caressing  fondly : 
"See  the  showers  of  snowy  blossoms 
From  the  almond-branches  falling!" 

"Showers  of  sweet  and  snowy  blossoms 
Pour  their  perfume  sweetly  o'er  me"— 
"  But  your  heart, — is  that,  my  darling, 
All  and  all  to  me  devoted  ?" 


THE    HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  175 

"Yes,  I  dearly  love  thoe,  darling; 
And  I  swear  it  by  the  Saviour 
Whom  the  God-accursed  Hebrews 
Murdered  treacherously,  basely." 

"Never  mind  the  Hebrews,  dearest," 
Softly  wooing,  said  the  lover : 
"In  the  distance,  dream-like  waving, 
Snow-white  lilies  gleam  in  glory, — 

"  Lilies  in  a  light  soft  flowing, 
Yearning  to  the  stars  above  them ; 
But  have  you  ne'er  been  false,  my  dearest, 
To  the  oath  you  swore  to  love  me?" 

"Falsehood  is  not  in  me,  darling: 
In  my  breast  no  drop  is  running 
Of  the  race  of  the  Moresco, 
Or  of  Jews  so  vile  and  dirty." 

"Never  mind  Jews  or  Morescos," 
Said  the  knight,  caressing  softly. 
To  a  sheltered  grove  of  myrtle 
He  has  led  the  Alcalde's  daughter. 

With  the  soft  fine  snare  of  passion 
Daintily  is  Clara  covered  ; 
Short  his  words,  but  long  his  kisses, 
And  their  hearts  are  overflowing. 

Like  a  luscious  melting  bride-song 
Sings  dame  Nightingale,  the  dearest ; 
In  a  merry  marriage  torch-dance 
Glow-worms  on  the  ground  are  leaping. 


176  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

In  the  bower  all  is  silent, 
All  is  silent  round  the  lovers, 
Save  the  whispering  of  the  myrtles, 
And  the  flowers  their  breath  recovering ! 

But  the  sound  of  drums  and  trumpets 
From  the  castle-towers  comes  pealing, 
And,  awaking,  Donna  Clara 
From  his  warm  embraces  frees  her. 

"Hear!  they  call  me  now,  my  darling! 
Yet,  before  we  part  this  evening, 
Let  me  know  what  the  dear  name  is 
Which  so  long  you've  kept  a  secret." 

And  the  lover,  gayly  smiling, 
Kissed  his  lovely  lady's  fingers, 
Kissed  her  lips,  too,  and  her  forehead, 
And  at  length  the  words  he  whispers, 

"  I,  Sefiora,  I,  your  lover, 
Am  the  son  of  the  much-honored, 
Great,  and  Scripture-learne'd  Rabbi, 
Israel  of  Saragoza." 

95. 
ALMANZOR. 

3n  bent  Seme  311  Cctbcua. 
I. 

TN  Cordova's  grand  cathedral 

Stand  the  pillars  thirteen  hundred  ; 
Thirteen  hundred  giant  pillars 
Bear  the  cupola,  that  wonder. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  177 

And  on  walls  and  dome  and  pillars, 
From  the  top  to  bottom  winding, 
Flow  the  Arabic  Koran  proverbs, 
Quaintly  and  like  flowers  twining. 

Moorish  monarchs  once  erected 
This  fair  pile  to  Allah's  glory  ; 
But  in  the  wild  dark  whirl  of  ages 
Many  a  change  has  stolen  o'er  it. 

On  the  minaret,  where  the  Mollah 
Called  to  prayer  amid  the  turrets, 
Now  the  Christian  bells  are  ringing 
With  a  melancholy  drumming. 

On  the  steps  where  once  the  Faith i'ul 
Sung  the  praises  of  the  Prophet, 
Now  the  mass's  worn-out  wonder 
To  the  world  the  bald  priests  offer. 

What  a  turning,  what  a  twisting, 
By  the  puppets  in  odd  draping ! 
What  a  bleating,  steaming,  ringing, 
Round  the  foolish,  flashing  tapers ! 

In  Cordova's  grand  cathedral 
Stands  Almanzor  ben  Abdullah, 
Silently  the  pillars  eyeing, 
And  these  words  in  silence  murmuring : 

"  0  ye  strong  and  giant  pillars, 
Once  adorned  in  Allah's  glory, 
Now  ye  serve,  and  deck  while  serving, 
The  detested  faith  now  o'er  us! 


178  THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY. 

"But  if  to  the  times  ye're  suited, 
And  ye  calmly  bear  the  burden, 
Surely  it  becomes  the  weaker 
Of  such  lore  to  be  a  learner." 

So  Almanzor  ben  Abdullah 

Smiled  and  bowed  with  cheerful  motion 

O'er  the  decorated  font-stone 

In  the  minster  of  Cordova. 

II. 

.Jiaftijj  idjritt  tt  au6  bcm  Sonic. 

TTASTILY  from  the  cathedral, 

Headlong  on  his  wild  horse  riding, 
Went  the  knight,  his  ringlets  waving, 
And  with  them  his  feathers  Hying, 

On  the  way  to  Alcolea, 
All  along  the  Guadalquivir, 
By  the  perfumed  golden  orange 
And  the  almond's  snow-white  glitter. 

Onward  flies  the  joyous  rider, 
Whistling,  singing,  gayly  laughing  ; 
And  the  birds  with  merry  music, 
And  the  waterfall,  sing  after. 

In  the  castle  Alcolea 
Dwells  fair  Clara  de  Alvarez. 
She  is  free  now,  since  her  father 
Wages  battle  in  Navarra. 


In  the  distance  drums  and  trumpets 


Sound  a  welcome  to  Almanzor, 


And  he  sees  the  castle-tapers 


Gleaming  through  the  forest-shadows. 


179 


In  the  castle  Alcoloa 
Twelve  fair  dames  are  gayly  dancing ; 
Twelve  gay  knights  are  dancing  with  them, 
Best  of  all  Almanzor  dances. 


Round  the  hall  he  gavly  nutter 


Isabella's  pretty  fingers 

Then  are  kissed,  and  then  he  leaves  her 

Next  he  stands  before  Elvira, 

In  her  dark  eyes  archly  peeping. 

Laughingly  he  asks  Lenoro- 
If  to-day  he  strikes  her  fancy  ; 
And  he  shows  the  golden  crosses 
Richly  broidered  in  his  mantle. 

And  he  vows  to  every  lady, 
"  In  my  heart  you  live,  believe  me  ;" 
And  "as  true  as  I'm  a  Christian!" 
Thirty  times  he  swore  that  evening. 


180  THE   HOMEWARD   JOUKNEY. 

III. 

3n  bem  Ecfjlop  511  2(tcole,i. 

TN  the  castle  Alcolea 

Mirth  and  music  cease  their  ringing ; 
Lords  and  ladies  are  departed, 
And  the  tapers  are  extinguished. 

Donna  Clara  and  Almanzor, 
Only  they  alone  still  linger  : 
On  them  shines  a  single  taper, 
With  its  light  wellnigh  extinguished. 

On  her  chair  the  dame  is  seated, 
On  her  footstool  ho  is  dozing ; 
Till  his  head,  with  slumber  weary, 
On  the  knees  he  loves  reposes. 

Now  she  pours  attar  of  roses 
Cautiously,  from  golden  vial, 
On  the  brown  locks  of  Almanzor, 
And  she  hears  him  deeply  sighing. 

Ever  cautiously  the  lady 
Presses  kisses  sweet  and  loving 
On  the  brown  locks  of  Almanzor  ; 
But  his  brow  is  clouded  over. 

Ever  cautiously  the  lady 
Weeps  in  floods,  with  anguish  yearning, 
On  the  brown  locks  of  Almanzor ; 
And  his  lip  with  scorn  is  curling. 


THE   HOMEWARD   JOURNEY.  181 

And  he  dreams  again  he's  standing 
In  the  minster  at  Cordova, 
Bending  with  his  brown  locks  dripping, 
Gloomy  voices  murmuring  o'er  him. 

And  he  hears  the  giant  pillars 
Their  impatient  anger  murmur  : 
Longer  they  will  not  endure  it, 
And  they  tremble,  and  they  totter, 

And  they  wildly  crash  together. 
Deadly  pale  are  priest  and  people. 
Down  the  cupola  comes  thundering, 
And  the  Christian  gods  are  grieving. 


96. 

THE  PILGRIMAGE  TO  KEVLAAR. 
I. 

Tim  Jenfter  ftctut  tic  Gutter. 

rpIIE  mother  stood  at  the  window, 

In  sick-bed  lay  her  son  : 
"Will  you  not  rise  up,  William, 
Ere  the  pilgrim-train  be  gone?" 

"I  am  so  ill,  0  mother, — 

I  cannot  hear  or  see : 
I  think  of  my  dead  Margaret, 

And  my  heart  is  a  pain  to  me." 


182  THE   HOMEWARD   JOUENEY. 

The  Mother  of  God  will  heal  again 
That  poor  sick  heart  in  thec." 

The  sacred  banners  are  rustling, 
The  solemn  psalm  peals  high : 

It  was  at  Cologne  in  the  Rhine-land 
That  this  procession  went  by. 

The  mother  followed  the  many  ; 

With  her  sad  son  went  she, 
Both  singing  in  the  chorus, 

"  Blessed  be  thou,  Marie  !" 

II. 

Etc  TKutttc  SotteS  ju  Jtctlaar. 

rpHE  Virgin  Mary  at  Kevlaar 

Puts  on  her  best  array  ; 
For  she  must  be  right  busy 

With  the  sick  who  come  to-day. 

And  votive  gifts  are  offered 

By  many  sickly  bands, 
Limbs  all  from  white  wax  modelled, 

And  waxen  feet  and  hands. 

And  he  who  a  wax  hand  offers, 
His  hand  will  be  free  from  pain  ; 

And  he  who  a  wax  foot  offers, 
His  foot  will  be  well  again. 

To  Kevlaar  went  many  on  crutches 
Who  now  on  the  tight-rope  bound, 

And  many  now  play  the  viol 
Who  had  never  a  finger  sound. 


THE    HOMEWARD    JOURNEY.  183 

The  mother  took  a  taper, 

And  made  from  the  wax  a  heart: 

"Take  that  to  the  Virgin  Mary, 
And  she  will  heal  thy  smart." 

The  son  with  the  heart  went  sighing 

To  the  holy  image  there  : 
Tears  from  his  eyes  came  bursting, 

And  there  burst  from  his  heart  the  prayer  : 

"Thou  the  most  highly  blessed  ! 

God's  purest  handmaid  thou  ! 
And  queen,  too,  of  the  heaven  ! 

Hear  all  my  sorrow  now ! — 

"I  lived,  along  with  mother, 

At  Cologne,  and  in  the  town 
Where  are  many  hundred  churches 

And  chapels  of  renown. 

'•And  near  to  us  lived  Margaret, 

AVho  is  dead  and  gone  away  : — 
Mary,  I  bring  thee  a  wax  heart : 

Oh,  heal  my  heart,  I  pray!" 


III. 

Jet  frcmfe  Sefjn  unb  tic  TOutter. 

rpTIE  sickly  son  and  his  mother 
In  their  little  chamber  slept : 
There  came  the  Holy  Mother, 
And  softly  in  she  stept. 


184  TEE   HOMEWARD   JOUBXEY. 

Above  the  sick  boy  she  bent  her, 
While  her  hand  all  softly  lay 

Upon  his  breast.  Sweet  smiling, 
She  vanished  far  away. 

The  mother  saw  all  in  dreaming, 
And  more  in  her  vision  still, 

Then  wakened  from  her  slumber 
The  dogs  were  barking  shrill. 

There  lay  at  length  before  her 
Her  son,— and  he  was  dead  ! 

On  his  pale  cheeks  was  playing 
The  gleaming  morning  red. 

Her  hands  the  mother  folded, 
She  felt  she  knew  not  how : 

Softly  she  sang,  and  piously, 
"  0  Mary,  blest  art  thou!" 


"  Nothing  is  pornianont  but  changp,  nothing  constant  l.nt 
•Iriitli.  KVITJ-  iJiilsutimi  of  the  heart  inflicts  a  wound:  and  life 
would  !»'  an  i-ndless  bleeding,  wen;  it  not  for  Poetry.  She  secures 
to  us  what  Xatims  would  deny, — a  golden  age  without  ru?t. 
a  spring  \\hich  never  fades,  cloudless  prosperity  and  eternal 
youth.''  BORNE. 


PROLOGUE. 


T>LACK  dress-coats  and  silken  stockings, 

Snowy  ruffles  frilled  with  art, 
Gentle  speeches  and  embraces  : — • 
Oh,  if  they  but  held  a  heart, — 

Held  a  heart  within  their  bosom, 
Wanned  by  love  which  truly  glows! 

Ah, — I'm  wearied  with  their  chanting 
Of  imagined  lovers'  woes ! 

185 


186  THE    HARTZ   JOURNEY. 

I  will  climb  upon  the  mountains, 
Where  the  quiet  cabin  stands, 

Where  the  wind  blows  freely  o'er  us, 
Where  the  heart  at  ease  expands. 

I  will  climb  upon  the  mountains, 
Where  the  dark-green  fir-trees  grow. 

Brooks  are  rustling,  birds  are  singing, 
And  the  wild  clouds  headlong  go. 

Then  farewell,  ye  polished  Indies, 
Polished  men,  and  polished  hall ! 

I  will  clirnb  upon  the  mountains, 
Smiling  down  upon  you  all. 

MOUNTAIN  IDYLS. 
1. 

Huf  bent  Serge  ffeljt  bie  §iitte. 

(^N  yon  rock  the  hut  is  standing 
Of  the  ancient  mountaineer : 
There  the  dark-green  fir- trees  rustle, 
And  the  moon  is  shining  clear. 

In  that  hut  there  stands  an  arm-chair, 
Which  quaint  carvings  beautify : 

He  who  sits  therein  is  happy, 
And  that  happy  man  am  I. 

On  the  stool  a  girl  is  sitting, 
On  my  lap  her  arms  repose, — 

With  her  eyes  like  blue  stars  beaming, 
And  her  mouth  a  new-born  rose. 


THE    IIARTZ   JOURXEY.  187 

And  the  dear  blue  star?  shine  on  me; 

Full  as  heaven  is  their  gaze ; 
And  her  littlo  lily  finger 

Archly  on  the  rose  she  lays. 

"Xay,  your  mother  cannot  see  us, 
For  she  spins  the  whole  day  long ; 

And  your  father  plays  the  cithern 
As  he  sings  a  good  old  song." 

And  the  girl  so  softly  whispers, 
So  that  none  around  may  hear, — 

Many  a  solemn  little  secret 

Has  she  murmured  in  my  ear, — 

"Since  I  lost  my  aunt,  who  loved  me, 

Now  we  never  more  repair 
To  the  shooting-ground  at  Goslar; 

And  it  is  so  pleasant  there  ! 

"And  up  here  it  is  so  lonely 

On  the  rocks  where  cold  winds  blow; 

And  in  winter  we  are  ever 
Deeply  buried  in  the  snow. 

"And  I'm  such  a  timid  creature, 

And  I'm  frightened  like  a  child 
At  the  evil  mountain-spirits 

Who  by  night  are  raging  wild." 

At  the  thought  the  maid  was  silent, 

As  if  terror  thrilled  her  breast ; 
And  the  small  hands,  white  and  dimpled, 

To  her  sweet  blue  eyes  she  pressed. 


188  THE    HABTZ   JOURNEY. 

Loud  without  the  fir-trees  rustle, 
Loud  the  spinning-wheel  still  rings  ; 

And  the  cithern  sounds  above  them, 
While  the  father  softly  sings, 

"Dearest  child,  no  evil  spirits 
Should  have  power  to  cause  you  dread: 

For  good  angels  still  are  watching 
Night  and  day  around  your  head." 


2. 

Zanneniaum  mil  giiinen  3'"9mt. 

T^IR-TREE  with  his  dark-green  fingers 

Taps  upon  the  window  low ; 

And  the  moon,  a  yellow  listener, 

Casts  within  her  sweetest  glow. 

Father,  mother,  both  are  sleeping, 
Near  at  hand  their  rest  they  take  ; 

But  we  two,  in  pleasant  gossip, 
Keep  each  other  long  awako. 

"  That  you  pray,  and  much  too  often, 

Seems  unlikely,  I  declare : 
On  your  lips  there's  a  contraction 

Which  was  never  born  of  prayer. 

"Ah,  that  heartless,  cold  expression 

Terrifies  me  as  I  gaze ; 
Though  a  solemn  sorrow  darkens 

In  your  eyes  their  gentle  rays. 


TUE    1IARTZ   JOCRXEY.  189 

"And  I  doubt  if  you  believe  in 

What  is  held  for  truth  by  most : 
Have  you  faith  in  God  the  Father, 

In  the  Son  and  Holy  Ghost?" 

"Ah,  rny  darling,  when  an  infant 

By  my  mother's  knee  I  stood, 
I  believed  in  God  the  Father, 

lie  who  rules  us,  great  and  good  ; 

"  He  who  made  the  world  so  lovely, 
Gave  man  beauty,  gave  him  force, 

And  to  sun  and  moon  and  planets 
Freappointed  each  their  course. 

"As  I  older  grew,  my  darling, 

And  my  way  in  wisdom  won, 
I  in  reason  comprehended 

And  believe  now  in  the  Son, — 

"In  the  well-loved  Son,  who,  loving, 

Oped  the  gates  of  Love  so  wide, 
And  for  thanks — as  is  the  custom— 

By  the  world  was  crucified. 

"Now,  at  man's  estate  arriving, 

Full  experience  I  boast, 
And,  with  heart  expanded,  truly 

I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 

"Who  has  worked  the  greatest  wonders  : 

Greater  still  he'll  work  again  : 
He  has  broken  tyrants'  strong-holds, 

And  he  breaks  the  vassal's  chain. 


190  THE   HARTZ   JOURNEY. 

"Ancient  deadly  wounds  still  healing, 
He  renews  man's  ancient  right: 

All  to  him,  born  free  and  equal, 
Are  as  nobles  in  his  sight. 

"  Clouds  of  evil  flee  before  him, 
And  those  cobwebs  of  the  brain 

Which  forbade  us  love  and  pleasure, 
Scowling  grimly  on  our  pain. 

"And  a  thousand  knights  well  weaponed 
Has  he  chosen,  and  required 

To  fulfil  his  holy  bidding, 
All  with  noblest  zeal  inspired. 

"Lo!  their  precious  swords  are  gleaming, 
And  their  banners  wave  in  fight ! 

What!  you  fain  would  see,  my  darling, 
Such  a  proud  and  noble  knight  ? 

"Well,  then,  gaze  upon  me,  dearest; 

I  am  of  that  lordly  host. 
Kiss  me!     I  am  an  elected 

True  knight  of  the  Holy  Ghost !" 


3. 

EtitC  tetfcecft  bcr  TOcnb  fief;  braufscn. 

CILENTLY  the  moon  goes  hiding 

Down  behind  the  dark-green  trees ; 
And  the  lamp  which  lights  our  chamber 
Flickers  in  the  evening  breeze. 


THE    HAETZ   JOURNEY.  191 

But  the  star-blue  eyes  are  beaming 

Softly  o'er  the  dimpled  cheeks, 
And  the  purple  rose  is  gleaming, 

While  the  gentle  maiden  speaks : 

"Little  people — fairy  goblins — • 
Steal  away  our  meat  and  bread  : 

In  the  chest  it  lies  at  evening, 
In  the  morning  it  has  fled. 

"From  our  milk  the  little  people 
Steal  the  cream  and  all  the  best ; 

Then  they  leave  the  dish  uncovered, 
And  our  cat  drinks  up  the  rest. 

"And  the  cat's  a  witch,  I'm  certain; 

For  by  night,  when  storms  arise, 
Oft  she  glides  to  yonder  'Ghost-Rock,' 

"Where  the  fallen  tower  lies. 

"There  was  once  a  splendid  castle, 
Home  of  joy  and  weapons  bright, 

Where  there  swept,  in  stately  torch-dance, 
Lady,  page,  and  armed  knight. 

"But  a  sorceress  charmed  the  castle, 

With  its  lords  and  ladies  fair. 
Now  it  is  a  lonely  ruin, 

And  the  owls  are  nestling  there. 

"  But  my  aunt  has  often  told  me, 

Could  I  speak  the  proper  word, 
In  the  proper  place  up  yonder, 

When  the  proper  hour  occurred, 


THE   IIARTZ   JOURNEY. 

"  Then  the  walls  would  change  by  magic 

To  a  castle  gleaming  bright, 
And  I'd  see,  in  stately  dances, 

Dame  and  page  and  gallant  knight. 

"  He  who  speaks  the  word  of  power 

Wins  the  castle  for  his  own, 
And  the  knights,  with  drum  and  trumpet, 

Loud  will  hail  him  lord  alone." 

Thus  sweet  legendary  pictures 

From  the  little  rose-mouth  bloom  ; 

And  the  gentle  eyes  are  shedding 
Star-blue  lustre  through  the  gloom. 

Round  my  hand  the  little  maiden 
AVinds  her  gold  locks  as  she  will, 

Gives  a  name  to  every  finger, 
Kisses,  smiles,  and  then  is  still. 

All  things  in  the  silent  chamber 

Seem  at  once  familiar  grown, 
As  if  e'en  the  chairs  and  clothes-press 

Well  of  old  to  me  were  known. 

Now  the  clock  talks  kindly,  gravely, 
And  the  cithern,  as  'twould  seem, 

Of  itself  is  faintly  chiming, 
And  I  sit  as  in  a  dream. 

"Now  the  proper  hour  is  o'er  us; 

Here's  the  place  where  't  should  be  heard : 
Child,  how  you  would  be  astonished 

Should  I  speak  the  magic  word  ! 


THE   HARTZ  JOURNEY.  193 

"If  I  spoke  that  word,  then  fading 
Night  would  thrill  in  fearful  strife, 

Brooks  and  streams  would  roar  together, 
As  the  castle  woke  to  life. 

"Panging  lutes  and  goblin  ditties 
From  tho  rifted  rock  would  sound ; 

Like  a  mad  and  merry  spring-tide 
Flowers  grow  forest-high  around. 

"  Flowers, — startling,  wondrous  flowers, 

Leaves  of  vast  and  fabled  form, 
Strangely  perfumed, — wildly  quivering, 

As  if  thrilled  with  passion's  storm. 

"  Roses,  wild  as  crimson  flashes, 

O'er  the  busy  tumult  rise  ; 
Giant  lilies,  white  as  crystal, 

Shoot  like  columns  to  the  skies. 

"Great  as  suns  the  stars  above  us 

Gaze  adown  with  burning  glow; 
In  the  lilies'  giant  calyx 

All  their  floods  of  flashes  flow. 

"We  ourselves,  my  little  maiden, 
Would  be  changed  more  than  all : 

Torch-light  gleams,  o'er  gold  and  satin, 
Round  us  merrily  would  fall. 

"You  yourself  would  be  the  princess, 

And  this  hut  your  castle  high  ; 
Ladies,  lords,  and  graceful  pages 

Would  be  dancing,  singing  by. 


194  THE   HARTZ   JOCRXEY. 

"I,  however,  I  have  conquered 
You,  and  all  things,  with  the  word:- 

Serfe  and  castle, — lo !  with  trumpet, 
Loud  they  hail  me  as  their  lord !" 


THE  SHEPHERD-BOY. 

Jtortiji  ift  bet  $irtcnfnate. 

TCWERY  shepherd  is  a  monarch, 

And  a  hillock  is  his  throne ; 
While  the  sun  above  him  shining 
Is  his  heavy  golden  crown. 

Sheep  before  his  feet  are  lying, 
Softest  flatterers,  crossed  with  red  ; 

And  the  calves  are  "  cavalieros," 

Round  they  strut  with  haughty  head. 

True  court-players  are  the  he-goats  ; 

And  the  wild-bird  and  the  cow, 
With  their  piping  and  their  herd-bell, 

Are  the  king's  musicians  now. 

Ever  ringing,  singing  sweetly, 
And  as  sweetly  chime  around, 

Waterfall  and  stately  fir-trees, 

While  the  monarch  slumbers  sound. 

And,  as  he  sleeps,  his  trusty  sheep-dog 
As  prime  minister  must  reign  : 

How  his  snarling  and  his  barking 
Echo  over  hill  and  plain ! 


THE    HARTZ   JOURNEY.  195 

Dozing,  still  the  monarch  murmurs, 

"  Sure  such  work  was  never  seen 
As  this  reigning  :  I  were  happier 

Snug  at  home  beside  my  queen ! 

"There  my  royal  head,  when  weary, 

In  my  queen's  arms  softly  lies, 
And  my  endless,  broad  dominion, 

In  her  deep  and  gentle  eyes." 


THE  BKOCKEN. 

Defter  ttitb  t§  fcficn  tm  Cften. 

TN  the  East  'tis  ever  brighter, 

Though  the  sun  is  dimly  gleaming: 
Far  and  wide  the  mountain-summits 
In  the  misty  sea  are  swimming. 

Had  I  seven-mile  boots  for  travel, 
With  the  wind  in  wild  haste  vying, 

Over  yonder  mountain-summits 
To  her  house  would  I  go  flying. 

From  the  bed  where  she  is  sleeping 
I  would  draw  the  curtain  lightly, 

Softly  kiss  her  on  the  forehead, — 
On  the  ruby  lips  as  slightly. 

Yet  more  lightly  I  would  whisper 
In  the  small  white  ear  before  me, 

"  Think  in  dreams  that  we  ne'er  parted, 
And  that  love  is  ever  o'er  me." 
14 


196  THE   HAETZ  JOURNEY. 

PRINCESS  ILSE. 

3d)  bin  bie  <prmjeijm  31)c. 

T  AM  the  Princess  Use, 

'     And  dwell  in  Ilsenstcin  : 
Come  with  me  to  my  castle  ; 
Thou  slialt  be  blest, — and  mine ! 

"With  ever-flowing  fountains 
I'll  cool  thy  weary  brow : 

Thou 'It  lose,  amid  the  rippling, 
The  cares  which  grieve  thoc  now. 

In  my  white  arms  reposing, 
And  on  my  snow-white  breast, 

Thoul't  dream  of  old,  old  legends, 
And  sink  in  joy  to  rest. 

I'll  kiss  thee  and  caress  thce, 

As  in  the  ancient  day 
I  kissed  the  Emperor  Henry, 

Who  long  has  passed  away. 

The  dead  are  dead  and  silent: 

Only  the  living  love  ; 
And  I  am  fair  and  blooming, 

— Dost  feel  my  wild  heart  move  ? 

And  as  my  hea-rt  is  beating, 
My  crystal  castle  rings, 

Where  many  a  knight  and  lady 
In  merry  measure  springs. 


THE    HARTZ   JOURNEY.  197 

Silk  trains  are  softly  rustling, 
Spurs  ring  from  night  to  morn  ; 

And  dwarfs  are  gayly  drumming, 
And  blow  the  golden  horn. 

As  round  the  Emperor  Henry, 
My  arms  round  thee  shall  fall : 

I  held  his  ears, — he  heard  not 
The  trumpet's  warning  call. 


&r$ 


1825-1826. 


MOTTO  :  Xenophon's  Anabasis,  IV.  7. 


PART    FIRST. 
(1825.) 


1. 

HOMAGE. 

3f>r  Sieber!  Jijr  meine  fluten  Sicbcr! 

"V7"E  poems !  ye  mine  own  valiant  poems ! 

Up,  up,  and  weapon  ye  ! 
Let  the  loud  trump  be  ringing, 
And  lift  upon  my  shield 
The  fair  young  maiden 
Who  now  my  heart  in  full 
Shall  govern  as  a  sovereign  queen. 

All  "hail  to  thee,  thou  fair  young  queen ! 
198 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  199 

From  the  sun  above  me 

I  tear  the  flashing,  ruddy  gold, 

And  weave  therefrom  a  diadem 

For  thy  all-holy  head. 

From  the  fluttering,  blue-silken  heaven's  curtain, 

Wherein  night's  bright  diamonds  glitter, 

I  cut  a  costly  piece, 

To  hang  as  coronation-mantle 

Upon  thy  white,  imperial  shoulders. 

I  give  to  thee,  dearest,  a  city 

Of  stiffly  adorned  sonnets, 

Proud  triple  verses,  and  courteous  stanzas; 

My  wit  thy  courier  shall  be, 

And  for  court-fool  my  fantasy, 

As  herald,  the  soft  smiling  tears  in  my  escutcheon, 

And  with  them  my  humor. 

But  I  myself,  0  gentle  queen, 

I  bow  before  thee,  lowly, 

And,  kneeling  on  scarlet  velvet  cushions, 

I  here  offer  to  thee 

The  fragments  of  reason 

Which  from  sheer  pity  once  were  left  to  me 

By  her  who  ruled  before  thee  in  the  realm. 


200  THE   NOETH   SEA. 

2. 

TWILIGHT. 

Sim  fclaffen  2JIeerceitranbe. 

N  the  white  strand  of  Ocean 
Sat  I,  sore  troubled  in  spirit,  and  lonely. 


0 


The  sun  sank  lower  and  lower,  and  cast 

Bed  glowing  shadows  on  the  water, 

And  the  snow-white  streaming  billows, 

By  the  flood  impelled, 

Foamed  up  while  roaring  nearer  and  nearer, 

A  wondrous  tumult,  a  whistling  and  whispering, 

A  laughing  and  murmuring,  sighing  and  washing, 

And  mid  them  a  lullaby  known  to  me  only. — 

It  seemed  that  I  thought  upon  legends  forgotten, 

World-old  and  beautiful  stories, 

Which  I  once,  when  little, 

From  the  neighbors'  children  had  heard, 

When  we,  of  summer  evenings, 

Sat  on  the  steps  before  the  house-door, 

Bending  us  down  to  the  quiet  narrative, 

With  little  hearts,  a-listening, 

And  curious,  cunning  glances, 

While  near,  the  elder  maidens, 

Close  by  sweet-smelling  pots  of  roses, 

At  the  windows  were  calmly  leaning, 

Rosy-hued  faces, 

Smiling,  and  lit  by  the  moon. 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  201 

3. 

SUNSET. 

t\t  gliit;cnt>  tct^e  Scune  fteiji. 

rpIIE  sun  in  crimsoned  glory  falls 

Down  to  the  broad  up-quivering 
Gray  and  silvery  ocean-world  ; 
Airy  figures,  warm  in  rosy  light, 
Wave-like  roll  after  ;  while  eastward  rising, 
From  autumn-like  darkening  veils  of  vapor, 
With  sorrowful  death-pale  features, 
Breaks  the  silent  moon. 
Like  sparks  of  light  behind  her, 
Cloud-distant,  glimmer  the  planets. 

Once  there  shone  in  Heaven, 

Nobly  united, 

LUNA  the  goddess,  and  SOL  the  god, 

And  the  bright  thronging  stars  in  light  swam 

round  them, 
Their  little  and  innocent  children. 

But  evil  tongues  came  whispering  quarrels, 

And  they  parted  in  anger, 

The  mighty,  light-giving  spouses. 

Now,  in  the  daytime,  in  loneliest  light 

The  sun-god  walks  yonder  in  glory, 

All  for  his  lordliness 

Ever  prayed  to  and  sung  by  many, 

By  haughty,  heartless,  prosperous  mortals  ; 


202  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

But  still  by  night 

In  heaven  wanders  Luna, 

The  wretched  mother, 

With  all  her  orphaned  starry  children  ; 

And  she  shines  in  silent  sorrow, 

And  soft-loving  maidens  and  gentle  poets 

Offer  her  songs  and  their  sorrows. 

The  tender  Luna!  woman  at  heart, 
Loving  as  ever  her  beautiful  lord, 
And  at  evening,  trembling  and  pale, 
Out  she  peeps  from  light  cloud-curtains, 
And  looks  to  the  lost  one  in  sorrow. 
Fain  would  she  cry,  in  her  anguish,  "Come! 
Come!  the  children  are  longing  for  love!'' 
In  vain! — the  haughty-souled  god  of  fire 
Flashes  forth  at  the  sight  of  pale  Luna 
In  doubly  deep  purple, 
For  rage  and  pain, 
And  all  unyielding  he  hastens  down 
To  his  ocean-chilled  and  lonely  bed. 
*  *  *          *  * 

Spirits  whispering  evil 

By  their  power  brought  pain  and  destruction 

Even  to  great  gods  eternal. 

And  the  poor  deities,  high  in  the  heavens, 

Travel  in  sorrow, — 

Endless,  disconsolate  journeys ; 

And  they  are  immortal, 

Still  bearing  with  them 

Their  bright  desolation. 


TEE   NORTH    SEA.  203 

But  I,  the  mortal, 

Planted  so  lowly,  with  death  to  bless  me, 

I  sorrow  no  longer. 


4. 
NIGHT  ON  THE  SEA-SHORE. 

SternlcS  unb  lalt  iff  tie  SJacfjt. 

a  TARLESS  and  cold  is  the  night ; 

The  wild  sea  foams ; 
And  over  the  sea,  flat  on  his  face, 

Lies  the  monstrous,  terrible  North  Wind, 
Sighing  and  sinking  his  voice  as  in  secret, 
Like  an  old  grumbler  for  once  in  good  humor. 

Unto  the  ocean  he  talks, 
And  he  tells  her  wonderful  stories, — 

Giant  legends,  murderous-humored, 

Very  old  Sagas  of  Norway, 
And  midst  them,  far  sounding,  he  howls  while 
laughing 

Sorcery-songs  from  the  Edda, 
Gray  old  Runic  sayings, 

So  darkly-daring  and  magical-mighty, 
That  the  snow-white  sea-children 
High  are  springing  and  shouting, 

Drunk  with  wanton  joy. 

Meanwhile,  on  the  level,  white  sea-beach, 
Over  the  sand  ever  washed  by  the  flood, 
Wanders  a  stranger  with  wild  storming  spirit, 
And  fiercer  fur  than  wind  and  billow. 


204  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

Go  where  he  may, 

Sparks  are  flashing  and  sea-shells  are  cracking, 
And  he  wraps  him  well  in  his  iron-gray  mantle, 
And  quickly  treads  through  the  dark-waving 

Night, 

Safely  led  by  a  distant  taper 
Which,  guiding  and  gladdening,  glimmers 
From  the  fisherman's  lonely  hovel. 

Father  and  brother  are  on  the  sea, 

And  all  alone  and  sad  there  sits 

In  the  hovel  the  fisher's  daughter, — 

The  wondrous  lovely  fisher's  daughter. 

By  the  hearth  sits  she, 

Listening  to  the  boiling  kettle's 

Sweet  prophetic,  domestic  humming, 

Scattering  light-crackling  wood  on  the  fire, 

And  blows  on  it, 

Till  the  flashing,  ruddy  flame-rays 

Shine  again  in  magic  lustre 

On  her  beautiful  features, 

On  her  tender,  snow-white  shoulder, 

Which,  moving,  comes  peeping 

Over  heavy,  dark-gray  linen, 

And  on  the  little,  industrious  hand, 

Which  more  firmly  binds  her  under-garment 

Round  her  well-formed  figure. 

But  lo !  at  once  the  door  springs  wide, 

And  there  enters  in  haste  the  benighted  stranger ; 

Love-assuring  rest  his  glances 

On  the  foam- white  slender  maiden, 

Who  trembling  near  him  stands, 


THE    NORTH    SEA.  205 

Like  a  storm-terrified  lily; 

And  he  casts  on  the  Moor  his  mantle, 

And  laughs,  and  speaks : 

"  Seest  now,  my  child,  I  keep  my  word  ; 

For  I  am  come,  and  with  me  comes 

The  olden  time,  when  the  bright  gods  of  heaven 

Came  once  more  to  the  daughters  of  mortals, 

And  the  daughters  of  mortals  embraced  them, 

And  from  them  gave  birth  to 

Sceptre-carrying  races  of  monarchs, 

And  heroes  astounding  the  world. 

Yet  stare  not,  my  child,  any  longer 

At  my  divinity, 

And,  I  entreat  you,  make  some  tea  with  rum, 

For  without,  it  is  cold, 

And  by  such  a  night  air 

We  too  oft  freeze, — yes,  we,  the  undying, — 

And  easily  catch  the  divinest  catarrhs 

And  coughs,  which  may  last  us  forever." 

5. 
POSEIDON. 

Sie  £onnenttdjter  fjneltett. 

npIIE  sun's  bright  rays  were  playing 

Over  the  far-away-rolling  sea  ; 
Out  in  the  harbor  glittered  the  ship 
Which  to  my  home  ere  long  should  bear  me  ; 
But  we  wanted  favorable  breezes, 


206  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

And  I  still  sat  calm  on  the  snow-white  sea-beach, 

Alone  on  the  strand, 

And  I  read  the  song  of  Odysseus, 

The  ancient,  ever  new-born  song  ; 

And  from  its  ocean -rippled  pages 

Joyfully  there  rose  to  me 

The  breath  of  immortals, 

And  the  light-giving  human  spring-tide, 

And  the  soft  blooming  heaven  of  Hellas. 

My  noble  heart  accompanied  truly 

The  son  of  Laertes  in  wandering  and  sorrow, 

Set  itself  with  him,  troubled  in  spirit, 

By  bright-gleaming  firesides, 

By  fair  queens,  winning,  purple-spinning, 

And  helped  him  to  lie  and  escape,  glad  singing, 

From  giant  caverns  and  nymphs  seducing, 

Followed  behind  in  fear-boding  night, 

And  in  storm  and  shipwreck, 

And  thus  suffered  with  him  unspeakable  sorrow. 

Sighing  I  spoke  :  "Thou  evil  Poseidon, 

Thy  wrath  is  fearful, 

And  I  myself  dread 

For  my  own  voyage  homeward." 

The  words  were  scarce  spoken 
When  up  foamed  the  sea, 
And  from  the  snow-white  waves  arose 
The  mighty  bulrush-crowned  sea-god, 
And  scornful  he  cried  : 


THE   XOETII    SEA.  207 

"  Be  not  afraid,  small  poet  ! 

I  will  not  in  the  least  endanger 

Thy  wretched  vessel, 

Nor  put  thy  precious  being  in  terror 

With  all  too  significant  shaking. 

For  thou,  small  poet,  hast  troubled  me  not  ; 

Thou  hast  no  turret  —  though  trifling  —  destroyed 

In  the  great  sacred  palace  of  Priam, 

Nor  one  little  eyelash  hast  thou  e'er  singed 

In  the  eye  of  my  son  Polyphemus  ; 

Thee  with  her  counsels  did  never  protect 

The  goddess  of  wisdom,  Pallas  Athene/1 

And  so  spake  Poseidon, 

And  sank  him  again  in  the  sea  ; 

And  over  the  vulgar  sailor-joke 

There  laughed  under  the  water 

Amphitrite,  the  fat  old  fish-wife, 

And  the  stupid  daughters  of  Nereus. 

6. 

DECLARATION. 

£eran;jebatnmert  fam  tct  Ktcnb. 


dimly  came  the  evening, 

Wilder  tumbled  the  waves, 
And  I  sat  on  the  strand,  beholding 
The  swan-like  dance  of  the  billows  ; 
And  then  my  breast  swelled  up  like  the  sea, 
And,  longing,  there  seized  me  a  deep  home-sick 

ness 
For  thee,  thou  lovely  form, 


208  THE   NOBTH   SEA. 

Who  everywhere  art  by  me, 

And  everywhere  dost  call, 

Everywhere,  everywhere, 

In  the  rustling  of  breezes,  the  roaring  of  Ocean, 

And  in  the  sighing  of  this  my  sad  heart. 

With  a  light  reed  I  wrote  in  the  sand : 

"Agnes,  I  love  but  thee!" 

But  wicked  waves  came  washing  fast 

Over  the  tender  confession, 

And  wore  it  away. 

Thou  too  fragile  reed,  thou  false  shifting  sand, 
Ye  swift-flowing  waters,  I  trust  ye  no  more ! 
The  heaven  grows  darker,  my  heart  grows  wilder, 
And,   with   strong  right   hand,  from  Norway's 

forests 

I'll  tear  the  highest  fir-tree, 
And  dip  it  adown 

Into  ^Etna's  hot  glowing  gulf,  and  with  such  a 
Fiery,  flaming,  giant  graver 
I'll  inscribe  on  heaven's  jet-black  cover, 
"Agnes,  I  love  but  thee  !" 

And  every  night  I'll  witness,  blazing 
Above  me,  the  endless  flaming  verse, 
And  even  the  latest  races  born  from  me 
Will  read,  exulting,  the  heavenly  motto : 
"Agnes,  I  love  but  thee  !" 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  209 


BY  NIGHT  IN  THE  CABIN. 


rpIIE  sea  has  many  pearl-drops, 

The  heaven  has  many  planets, 
But  this  fond  heart,  my  heart, 
My  heart  has  tender  true  love. 

Great  is  the  sea  and  the  heaven, 
Yet  greater  is  my  heart ; 
And  fairer  than  pearl- drops  or  planets 
Flashes  the  love  in  my  bosom. 

My  little  gentle  maiden, 

Come  to  rny  beating  heart; 

My  heart,  and  the  sea,  and  the  heaven, 

Are  lost  in  loving  frenzy. 

***** 
On  the  dark-blue  heaven-curtain, 
Where  the  lovely  stars  are  gleaming, 
Fain  would  I  my  lips  be  pressing, 
Press  them  wildly,  storm-like  weeping. 

And  those  planets  are  her  bright  eyes 
But  a  thousand  times  repeated  ; 
And  they  shine  and  greet  me  kindly 
From  the  dark-blue  heaven-curtain. 

To  the  dark-blue  heavenly  curtain, 
To  the  eyes  I  love  so  dearly, 
High  my  hands  I  raise  devoutly, 
And  I  pray,  and  I  entreat  her : 


210  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

"  Lovely  eyes,  ye  lights  of  rnercy, 
Oh,  I  pray  ye,  bless  rny  spirit ; 
Let  me  perish,  and  exalt  rne 
Up  to  ye,  and  to  your  heaven." 

***** 
From  the  heavenly  eyes  above  me 
Snow-like  sparks  are  trembling,  falling 
Through  the  night,  and  all  my  spirit 
Wide  in  love  flows  forth  and  wider. 

Oh,  ye  heavenly  eyes  above  me ! 
Weep  your  tears  upon  my  spirit, 
That  those  living  tears  of  starlight 
O'er  my  soul  may  gently  ripple. 

***** 
Cradled  calm  by  waves  of  ocean, 
And  by  wondrous  dreaming,  musing 
Still  I  lie  within  the  cabin, 
In  my  gloomy  corner  hammock, 

Through  the  open  hatchway  gazing 
Yonder  to  the  gleaming  starlight, 
To  the  dearest,  sweetest  glances 
Of  my  sweetest,  much-loved  maiden. 

Yes,  those  sweetest,  best- loved  glances 
Calm  above  my  head  are  shining ; 
They  are  ringing,  they  are  peeping, 
From  the  dark-blue  vault  of  heaven. 

To  the  dark-blue  vault  of  heaven 
Many  an  hour  I  gaze  in  rapture, 


THE    NORTH    SEA.  211 

Till  a  snow-white  cloudy  curtain 
Hides  from  me  the  best-loved  glances. 

On  the  planking  of  the  vessel, 

Where  my  light  dreaming  head  lies, 

Leaf i  up  the  waters, — the  wild,  dark  waters. 

They  ripple  and  murmur 

Right  straight  in  my  ear  : 

"Thou  crazy  companion ! 
Thy  arm  is  short,  and  the  heaven  is  far, 
And  the  stars  up  yonder  are  nailed  down  firmly; 
In  vain  is  thy  longing,  in  vain  is  thy  sighing  •. 
The  best  thou  canst  do  is  to  go  to  sleep." 
***** 

And  I  was  dreaming  of  a  heath  so  dreary, 
Forever  mantled  with  the  sad,  white  snow, 
And  'neath  the  sad  white  snow  I  lay  deep  buried, 
And  slept  the  lonely  ice-cold  sleep  of  death. 

And  yet  on  high  from  the  dark  heaven  were 
gazing 

Adown  upon  rny  grave  the  starlight  glances, 

Those  sad,  sweet  glances!  and  they  gleamed  vic 
torious, 

So  calmly  cheerful,  and  yet  full  of  true  love. 


212  TJ1E    SOUTH    SEA. 

8. 

STORM. 

Qi  ix'iitfyct  fccr  cturm. 

T  ODD  rages  the  storm, 

And  he  whips  the  waves, 
And  the  waters,  rage-foaming  and  rearing, 
Tower  on  high,  and  with  life  there  come  rolling 
The  snow-white  water-mountains, 
And  the  vessel  ascends  them, 
Earnest  striving, 
Then  quickly  it  darts  adown, 
In  jet-black,  wide  opening,  watery  abysses. 

OSea! 

Mother  of  Beauty,  born  of  the  foam-billow! 

Great  Mother  of  all  Love !  be  propitious ! 

There  flutters,  corpse-foreboding, 

Around  us  the  spectre-like  sea-gull, 

And  whets  his  sharp  bill  on  the  topmast, 

And  yearns  with  hunger-lust  for  the  heart 

Of  him  who  sounded  the  praise  of  thy  daughter, 

And  which  thy  grandson,  the  little  rogue, 

Chose  for  a  plaything. 

In  vain  my  entreaties  and  tears ! 

My  plainings  are  lost  in  the  terrible  storm, 

Mid  war-cries  of  north  winds ; 

There's  a  roaring  and  whistling,  a  crackling  and 

howling, 

Like  a  mad-house  of  noises  ! 
And  amid  them  I  hear  distinctly 


THE    XORTH    SEA.  213 

Sweet  enticing  harp-tones, 
Melody  mad  with  desire, 
Spirit-melting  and  spirit-rending  ; 
AVell  I  remember  the  voices. 

Far  on  the  rocky  coast  of  Scotland, 

Where  the  old  gray  castle  towers 

Over  the  wild  breaking  sea, 

In  a  lofty  arche'd  window 

There  stands  a  lovely  sickly  dame, 

Softly  transparent  and  marble  pale, 

And  she  plays  on  the  harp  and  sings  ; 

And  through  her  long  locks  the  wind  is  waving, 

And  bears  her  gloomy  song 

Over  the  broad,  white,  storm-rolling  sea. 

9. 
CALM  AT  SEA. 

ajieercSftitte!  3^rc  €traf)ten. 

/~\CEAN  silence!  rays  are  falling 
From  the  sun  upon  the  water  ; 
Like  a  train  of  quivering  jewels, 
Sweeps  the  ship's  green  wake  behind  us. 

Near  the  rudder  lies  our  boatswain, 
On  his  face,  and  deeply  snoring  ; 
By  the  mast,  his  canvas  sewing, 
Sits  a  little  tarry  sailor. 

But  o'er  all  his  dirty  features 
Glows  a  blush,  and  fear  is  twitching 


214  TEE   NORTH   SEA. 

Round  his  full-sized-mouth,  and  sadly 
Gaze  his  large  and  glittering  eyeballs. 

For  the  captain  stands  before  him, 
Fumes  and  swears,  and  curses,  "Eascal! 
Rascal  !  —  there's  another  herring 
Which  you've  stolen  from  the  barrel  !" 

Ocean  silence  !     From  the  water 
Up  a  little  fish  comes  shooting, 
Warms  its  head  in  pleasant  sunlight, 
With  its  small  tail  merry  paddling. 

But  the  sea-gull,  sailing  o'er  us, 
Darts  him  headlong  on  the  swimmer, 
And,  with  claws  around  his  booty, 
Flies  and  fades  far,  far  above  me. 

10. 
A  SEA-PHANTOM. 


T)UT  I  still  leaned  o'er  the  side  of  the  vessel, 

Gazing  with  sad-dreaming  glances 
Down  at  the  water,  clear  as  a  mirror, 
Looking  yet  deeper  and  deeper,  — 
Till,  deep  in  the  sea's  abysses, 
At  first  like  dim  wavering  vapors, 
Then  slowly,  —  slowly,  —  deeper  in  color, 
Domes  of  churches  and  towers  seemed  rising, 
And  then,  as  clear  as  day,  a  city  grand, 
Quaint,  old-fashioned,  Netherlandish, 


THE    SOUTH    SEA.  215 

And  living  with  men, — • 

Men  of  high  standing,  wrapped  in  black  mantles, 

With  snow-white  neck-ruffs,  and  chains  of  honor, 

And  good  long  rapiers,  and  good  long  faces, 

Treading  in  state  o'er  the  crowded  market, 

To  the  high  steps  of  the  town-hall, 

Where  stone-carved  statues  of  Kaisers 

Kept  watch  with  their  swords  and  sceptres. 

Nor  distant,  near  houses  in  long  array, 

With  windows  clear  as  mirrors, 

Stand  lindens,  cut  in  pyramidal  figures ; 

And  maidens  in  silk-rustling  garments  wander, 

A  golden  zone  round  the  slender  waist, 

With  flower-like  faces  modestly  curtained 

In  jet-black  velvet  coverings, 

From  which  a  ringlet-fulness  comes  pressing. 

Quaint  cavalieros  in  old  Spanish  dress 

Sweep  proudly  along  and  salute  them. 

Elderly  ladies, 

In  dark-brown  and  old-fashioned  garments, 

With  prayer-book  and  rosary  held  in  their  hands, 

Hasten  with  tripping  steps 

To  the  great  cathedral, 

Attracted  by  bells'  loud  ringing 

And  roaring  organ-tones. 

E'en  I  am  seized  at  that  far  sound 

With  strange,  mysterious  trembling. 

Infinite  longing,  wondrous  sorrow, 

Steal  through  my  heart, — 

My  heart  as  yet  scarce  healed  ; 

It  seems  as  though  its  wounds,  forgotten, 


216  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

By  loving  lips  again  were  kissed, 
And  once  again  were  bleeding 
Drops  of  burning  crimson, 
Which  long  and  slowly  trickle  down 
Upon  an  ancient  house  below  there 
In  the  deep,  deep  sea-town, 
On  an  ancient,  high-roofed,  curious  house, 
Where,  lone  and  melancholy, 
Below  by  the  window  a  maiden  sits, 
Her  head  on  her  arm  reclined,— 
Like  a  poor  and  uncared-for  child  ; 
And  I  know  thee,  thou  poor  and  long-sorrowing 
child ! 

Thou  didst  hide  thus,  my  dear, 

So  deep,  so  deep  from  me, 

In  infant-like  humor, 

And  couldst  not  come  up  again, 

And  sattest,  strange  amid  stranger  people, 

For  full  five  hundred  years; 

And  I  meanwhile,  my  spirit  all  grief, 

Over  the  whole  broad  world  have  sought  thee, 

And  ever  have  sought  thee, 

Thou  dearly  beloved, 

Thou  long,  long  lost  one, 

Thou  finally  found  one, — 

At  last  I  have  found  thee,  and  now  am  gazing 

Upon  thy  sweet  face, 

With  earnest,  faithful  glances, 

Still  sweetly  smiling ; 

And  never  will  I  again  on  earth  leave  thee. 

I  am  corning  adown  to  thee, 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  217 

And  with  longing,  wide-reaching  embraces, 
Love,  I  leap  down  to  thy  heart ! 

But  just  at  the  right  instant 

The  captain  caught  and  held  me  safe, 

And  drew  me  from  danger, 

And  cried,  half-angrily  laughing, 

"Doctor,  is  Satan  in  you?" 

11. 
PURIFICATION. 


QTAY  them  in  gloomy  ocean-caverns, 

Maddest  of  dreams, 
Thou  who  hast  so  many  a  night 
My  heart  with  treacherous  joy  tormented, 
And  now,  as  ocean  sprite, 
Even  by  sun-bright  day  dost  annoy  me. 
Rest  where  thou  art,  to  eternity, 
And  I'll  cast  to  thee  as  offering  down 
All  my  long-worn  sins  and  my  sorrows, 
And  the  cap  and  bells  of  my  folly, 
Which  so  long  on  my  head  have  been  ringing, 
And  the  ice-cold  glistening  serpent-skin 
Of  hypocrisy 

Which  so  long  round  my  soul  has  been  twining 
The  sad,  sick  spirit, 
The  God-disbelieving  and  angel-denying, 

Miserable  spirit 

H'dlo  ho!  hallo  ho!     There  comes  the  wind! 


218  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

Up  with  the  sails!  they  flutter  and  belly; 
Over  the  silent,  treacherous  surface 
Hastens  the  ship, 
And  loud  laughs  the  spirit  set  free. 


12. 

PEACE. 

$ecl)  am  Sj.immel  ftcmt  bie  Sonne. 

TTIGH  in  heaven  the  sun  was  standing, 

By  cold-white  vapors  bedimmed. 
The  sea  was  still, 

And,  musing,  I  lay  by  the  helm  of  the  vessel, 
Dreamily  musing, — and,  half  in  waking 
And  half  in  slumber,  I  saw  in  vision 
The  Saviour  of  Earth. 
In  flowing,  snow-white  garments 
He  wandered  giant-high 
Over  land  and  sea ; 
He  lifted  his  head  unto  heaven, 
His  hands  were  stretched  forth  in  blessing 
Over  land  and  sea ; 
And  as  a  heart  in  his  breast 
He  bore  the  sun-orb, 
The  ruddy,  radiant  sun-orb, 
And  the  ruddy,  radiant,  burning  heart 
Poured  forth  its  beams  of  mercy 
And  its  gracious  and  love-blessed  light, 
Enlightening  and  warming, 
Over  land  and  sea. 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  219 

Sweetest  bell-tones  drew  us  gayly 
Here  and  there,  like  swans  soft  leading 
By  bands  of  roses  the  smooth-gliding  ship, 
And  swam  with  it  sporting  to  a  verdant  sea-shore, 
Where  men  were  living  in  a  high-towering 
And  stately  town. 

Oh,  peaceful  wonder  !     How  still  the  town! 

Where  the  sounds  of  this  world  were  silent, 

Of  prattling  and  sultry  employment, 

And  o'er  the  clean  and  echoing  highways 

Mortals  were  walking,  in  pure  white  garments, 

Bearing  palm-branches, 

And  whenever  two  met  together, 

They  saw  each  other  with  ready  feeling, 

And,  thrilling  with  true  love  and  sweet  self-  denial, 

Each  pressed  a  kiss  on  the  forehead, 

And  looked  up  on  high 

To  the  sun-heart  of  the  Saviour, 

Which,  gladly  atoning  his  crimson  blood, 

Flashed  down  upon  them, 

And,  trebly  blessed,  thus  they  spoke : 

"Blessed  be  Jesus  Christ!" 


220  THE   NORTH   SEA. 


PART  SECOND. 
(1826.) 


1. 

SEA-GREETING. 

Zhalatta!  J^alatta! 

rpIIALATTA!  Thalatta! 

Be  thou  greeted,  thou  infinite  Sea ! 
Be  thou  greeted  ten  thousand  times, 
With  heart  wild  exulting, 
As  once  thou  wert  greeted 
By  ten  thousand  Grecian  spirits, 
Striving  with  misery,  longing  for  home  again, 
Great,  world-famous  Grecian  true-hearts. 

The  wild  waves  were  rolling, 

Were  rolling  and  roaring ; 

The  sunlight  poured  headlong  upon  them 

His  nickering  rosy  radiance  ; 

The  frightened,  fluttering  trains  of  sea-gulls 

Went  fluttering  up,  sharp  screaming  ; 

Their  horses  were  stamping,  the  shields  were  loud 

ringing, 

And  far  it  re-echoed,  like  victor's  shout: 
Thalatta!  Thalatta! 


THE   XORTII    SEA.  221 

Greeting  to  thee,  thou  infinite  Sea! 

Like  the  tongue  of  my  country  ripples  thy  water ; 

Like  dreams  of  my  childhood,  I  saw  the  glimmer 

On  thy  wild,  wavering,  watery  realm  ; 

And  ancient  memories  again  seemed  telling 

Of  all  my  pleasant  and  wonderful  playthings, 

Of  all  the  bright-colored  Christmas-presents, 

Of  all  the  branches  of  crimson  coral, 

Small  gold-fish,  pearls  and  beautiful  sea-shells, 

Which  thou  in  secret  ever  keep'st 

Down  there  in  thy  sky-clear  crystal  home. 

Oh,  how  have  I  yearned  in  desolate  exile ! 

Like  to  a  withered  floweret 

In  a  botanist's  tin  herbarium, 

Lay  the  sad  heart  in  my  breast ; 

Or  as  if  I  had  sat  through  the  weary  winter 

Sick  in  a  hospital  dark  and  gloomy, 

And  now  I  had  suddenly  left  it, 

And  all  bewildering  there  beams  before  me 

Spring,  green  as  emerald,  waked  by  the  sun-rays, 

And  white  tree-blossoms  are  rustling  around  me, 

And  the  young  flowerets  gaze  in  my  face 

With  eyes  perfuming  and  colored, 

Perfuming   and   humming,    and   breathing   and 

smiling ; 

And  in  the  blue  heaven  sweet  birds  are  singing, 
Thalatta!  Thalatta! 

Thou  brave,  retreating  heart ! 
How  oft,  how  bitter  oft 


222  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

The  barbarous  dames  of  the  North  have  pressed 

thee  round ! 

From  blue  eyes,  great  and  conquering, 
They  shot  their  burning  arrows  ; 
With  artful,  polished  phrases, 
Often  they  threatened  to  cleave  my  bosom  ; 
With  arrow-head  letters  full  oft  they  smote 
My  poor  brain,  bewildered  and  lost. — 
All  vainly  held  I  my  shield  against  them ; 
Their  arrows  hissed,  and  their  blows  rang  round 

me, 

And  by  the  cold  North's  barbarous  ladies 
Then  was  I  driven  e'en  to  the  sea. 
And,  free  breathing,  I  hail  thee,  0  Sea! 
Thou  dearest,  rescuing  Sea, 
Thalatta!  Thalatta! 

2. 

STORM. 

Jumtf  Ucgt  auf  tern  SWcet  tctS  ecltnttet. 

~P\ARK  broods  a  storm  on  the  ocean, 

And  through  the  deep,  black  wall  of  clouds 
Gleams  the  zigzag  lightning-flash, 
Quickly  darting  and  quick  departing. 
Like  a  joke  from  the  head  of  Kronion, 
Over  the  dreary,  wild  waving  water, 
Thunder  afar  is  rolling, 
And  the  snow-white  steeds  of  the  waves  are 

springing, 

Which  Boreas  himself  did  beget 
On  the  beautiful  mares  of  Erichthon  ; 


THE   SOUTH   SEA.  223 

And  ocean-birds  in  their  fright  are  fluttering, 

Like  shadowy  ghosts  o'er  the  Styx, 

Which  Charon  sent  back  from  his  shadowy  boat. 

Little  ship,  wretched  yet  merry, 

Which  yonder  art  dancing  a  terrible  dance, 

yEolus  sends  thee  the  fastest  companions. 

Wildly  they're  playing  the  merriest  dances; 

The  first  pipes  soft,  the  next  blows  loud, 

The  third  growls  out  a  heavy  basso  ; 

And  the  tottering  sailor  stands  by  the  rudder, 

And  looks  incessantly  on  the  compass, 

The  quivering  soul  of  the  ship, 

Lifting  his  hands  in  entreaty  to  Heaven  : — 

0  save  me,  Castor,  giant-like  hero, 

And  thou  who  fight'st  with  fist,  Polydeuces  ! 


3. 

THE  SHIPWRECKED. 

$effnung  unb  Sicte!  JltleS  jertrummert! 

T  OST  hope  and  lost  love  !    All  is  in  ruins  ! 

And  I  myself,  like  a  dead  body 
Thrown  back  by  the  angry  sea, 
Lie  on  the  sea-beach  : 
On  the  waste,  barren  sea-beach, 
Before  me  rolls  a  waste  of  water, 
Behind  me  lies  starvation  and  sorrow, 
And  above  me  are  rolling  the  storm-clouds, 
The  formless,  dark-gray  daughters  of  air, 
Which  from  the  sea,  in  cloudy  buckets, 


221  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

Scoop  up  the  water, 
Ever  wearied  lifting  and  lifting, 
And  then  pour  it  again  in  the  sea, — 
A  mournful,  wearisome  business, 
And  useless,  too,  as  this  life  of  mine. 
The  waves  are  murm'ring,  the  sea-gulls  scream 
ing, 

Old  remembrances  seem  floating  round, 
Long-vanished  visions,  long-faded  pictures, 
Torturing,  yet  sweet,  seem  living  once  more  ! 

There  lives  a  maid  in  Norland, 

A  lovely  maid,  right  queenly  fair ; 

Her  slender,  cypress-like  figure 

Is  clasped  by  a  passionate  snowy-white  robe: 

The  dusky  ringlet-fulness, 

Like  a  night  of  rapture, 

From   the   lofty  braid-crowned  forehead   comes 

pouring, 

Twining  all  dreamily  sweet 
Round  the  sweet  and  snow-pale  features ; 
And  from  the  sweet  and  snow -pale  features, 
Great  and  wondrous,  gleams  a  dark  eye, 
Like  a  sun  of  jet-black  fire. 

0  thou  bright  black  sun,  how  oft, 

Enraptured  oft,  I  drank  from  thee 

Wild  glances  of  inspiration, 

And  stood  all  quivering,  drunk  with  their  fire, — 

And  then  swept  a  smile  all  mild  and  dove-like 

Round  the  lips  high  mantling,  proud  and  lovely ; 

And  the  lips  high  mantling,  proud  and  lovely, 


THE    NORTH   SEA.  ~-! 

Breathed  forth  words  as  sweet  as  moonlight, 

Soft  as  the  perfume  of  roses  : — 

Then  my  soul  rose  up  in  rapture 

And  flew,  like  an  eagle,  high  up  into  heaven  I 

Hush !  ye  billows  and  sea-mews ! 

All  is  long  over, — hope  and  fortune, 

Fortune  and  true  love  !     I  lie  on  the  sea-beach, 

A  weary  and  wreck-ruined  man, 

Still  pressing  my  face,  hot  glowing, 

Into  the  cold,  wet  sand. 


4. 
SUNSET. 

£te  fd;cne  Scune. 

HE  beautiful  sun-orb 

Has  calmly  sunk  down  to  his  rest  in  the  sea ; 
The  wild-rolling  waters  already  are  dyed 
With  night's  dark  shade, 
Though  still  the  evening  crimson 
Strews  them  with  light,  as  yet  bright-golden, 
And  the  stern  roaring  might  of  the  flood 
Crowds  to  the  sea-beach  the  snowy  billows, 
All  merrily  quickly  leaping, 
Like  white  woolly  flocks  of  lambkins, 
Which  youthful  shepherds  at  evening,  singing, 
Drive  to  their  homes. 


T 


"How  fair  is  the  sun-orb!" 

Thus  spoke,  his  silence  breaking,  my  friend, 


226  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

Who  with  me  on  the  sea-beach  loitering, 

And  jesting  half,  and  half  in  sorrow, 

Assured  me  that  the  bright  sun  was 

A  lovely  dame,  whom  the  old  ocean-god 

For  "convenience"  once  had  married. 

And  in  the  daytime  she  wanders  gayly 

Through  the  high  heaven,  purple-arrayed, 

And  all  in  diamonds  gleaming, 

And  all  beloved  and  all  amazing 

To  every  worldly  being, 

And  every  worldly  being  rejoicing 

With  warmth  and  splendor  from  her  glances ; 

Alas !  at  evening,  sad  and  unwilling, 

Back  must  she  bend  her  slow  steps 

To  the  dripping  home,  to  the  barren  embrace, 

Of  grisly  old  age. 

"Believe  me," — added  to  this  my  friend, 

And  smiling  and  sighing,  and  smiling  again, — 

"  They're  leading  below  there  the  lovingest  life! 

For  either  they're  sleeping  or  they  are  scolding, 

Till  high  uproars  above  here  the  sea, 

And  the  fisher  in  watery  roar  can  hear 

How  the  Old  One  his  wife  abuses  : — 

'  Plump  drab  of  the  universe ! 

Wooing  with  radiance! 

All  the  long  day  you  are  burning  for  other  loves, 

By  night,  to  me,  you  are  freezing  and  weary.' 

After  such  a  curtain-lecture, 

Of  course  the  Sun-bride  falls  to  weeping, 

Falls  to  weeping,  and  wails  her  sorrow, 

And  cries  so  wretchedly,  that  the  Sea-god 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  ! 

Quickly,  all  desperate,  leaps  from  his  bed, 
And  straight  to  the  ocean-surface  comes  rising 
To  get  to  fresh  air, — and  his  senses. 

"So  I  beheld  him,  hut  yesterday  night, 
Rising  breast-high  from  the  ocean. 
He  wore  a  long  jacket  of  yellow  flannel, 
And  a  new  night-cap,  white  as  a  lily, 
And  a  wrinkled,  faded  old  face." 

5. 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  OCEANIDES. 


/BOLDER  the  twilight  falls  on  the  Ocean, 

And  lonely,  with  his  own  lonelier  spirit, 
There  sits  a  man  on  the  barren  strand, 
And  casts  death-chilling  glances  on  high, 
To  the  wide-spread,  death-chilling  vault  of  heaven, 
And  looks  on  the  broad,  wide  wavering  sea ; 
And  over  the  broad,  wide  wavering  sea, 
Like  air-borne  sailors,  his  sighs  go  sweeping, 
Returning  once  more  in  sadness, 
But  to  discover,  firm  fastened,  the  heart 
Wherein  they  fain  would  anchor  ;— 
And  he  groans  so  loud  that  the  snow-white  sea-mews, 
Frightened  up  from  their  nests  in  the  sand-heaps, 
Around  in  white  clouds  flutter, 
And  he  speaks  unto  them  the  while,  and  laughing : 

"Ye  black-legged  sea-fowl, 
With  your  white  pinions  o'er  the  sea  fluttering, 
16 


228  THE   NORTH   SKA. 

With  crooked  dark  bills  drinking  the  sea-water, 

And  rank,  oily  seal-blubber  devouring, 

Your  wild  life  is  bitter,  e'en  as  your  food  is  ! 

While  I  here,  the  fortunate,  taste  only  sweet  things ! 

I  taste  the  sweetest  breath  of  roses, 

The  nourished-with-moonshine  nightingale  bride ; 

I  eat  the  most  delicate  sugar  meringues, 

And  the  sweetest  of  all  I've  tasted, — • 

Sweetest  true  love,  and  sweetest  returned  love. 

"  She  loves  me  !  she  loves  me  !  the  lovely  maiden  ! 

She  now  stands  at  home, — perhaps  at  the  window, 

And  looks  through  the  twilight,  afar  on  the  highway, 

And  looks  and  longs  but  for  me, — now,  really ! 

All  vainly  she  gazes  around,  still  sighing, 

Then,  sighing,  she  walks  adown  in  the  garden, 

Wandering  in  moonlight  and  perfume, 

And  speaks  to  the  sweet  flowers, — often  telling  them 

How  I,  the  beloved  one,  deserve  her  love, 

And  am  so  agreeable, — that's  certain ! 

In  bed  reposing,  in  slumber,  in  dreams, 

There  flits  round  her,  happy,  my  well-loved  form  ; 

E'en  in  the  morning  at  breakfast, 

On  the  glittering  bread  and  butter 

She  sees  my  dear  features  sweet  smiling, 

And  she  eats  it  up  out  of  love: — that's  certain!" 

Thus  he's  boasting  and  boasting, 

And  mid  it  all  sounds  the  scream  of  the  sea-gulls, 

Like  old  and  ironical  tittering ; 

The  evening  vapors  are  climbing  up ; 

From  clouds  of  violet,  strange  and  dream-like, 


THE    SORTU    SEA.  229 

Out  there  peeps  the  grass-yellow  moon ; 

High  are  roaring  the  ocean  billows, 

And  deep  from  the  high  up-roaring  sea, 

All  sadly  as  whispering  breezes, 

Sounds  the  lay  of  the  Oceanides, 

The  beautiful,  kind-hearted  water-fairies  ; 

And  clearest  among  them  the  sweet  notes  are  ringing 

Of  the  silver-footed  bride  of  Peleus, 

And  they  sigh,  and  are  singing : 

"0  fool,  thou  fool !  thou  weak,  boasting  fool ! 

Thou  tortured  with  sorrows  ! 

Vanished  and  lost  are  the  hopes  thou  hast  cherished, 

The  light  sporting  babes  of  thy  heart's  love ; 

And  ah  !  thy  heart,  thy  Niobe  heart 

By  grief  turned  to  stone  ! 

And  in  thy  wild  brain  'tis  night, 

And  through  it  is  darting  the  lightning  of  madness ; 

And  thou  boastest  from  anguish  ! 

0  fool !  thou  fool,  thou  weak,  boasting  fool ! 

Stiff-necked  art  thou,  like  thy  first  parent, 

The  noblest  of  Titans,  who  from  the  immortals 

Stole  heavenly  fire  and  on  Man  bestowed  it, 

And,  eagle-tortured,  to  rocks  firm  fettered, 

Defied  Olympus,  enduring  and  groaning, 

Until  we  heard  it  deep  down  in  the  sea, 

And  gathered  around  him  with  songs  consoling. 

"0  fool,  thou  fool!   thou  weak,  boasting  fool! 
Thou  who  art  weaker  by  far  than  he, 
Hadst  thou  thy  reason  thou'dst  honor  th'  immortals, 
And  bear  with  more  patience  the  burden  of  suffering, 


230  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

And  bear  it  in  patience,  in  silence,  in  sorrow, 
Till  even  Atlas  his  patience  had  lost, 
And  the  heavy  world  from  his  shoulders  was  thrown 
Into  endless  night." 

So  rang  the  deep  song  of  the  Oceanides, 

The  lovely  compassionate  water-spirits, 

Until  the  wild  waters  had  drowned  their  music. 

Behind  the  dark  clouds  down  sank  the  moon, 

Tired  Night  was  yawning, 

And  I  sat  yet  a  while  in  darkness,  sad  weeping. 


THE  GODS  OF  GREECE. 


rpHOU  full-blooming  moon  !     In  thy  soft  light, 
Like  wavering  gold,  bright  shines  the  sea  ; 
Like  morn's  first  radiance,  yet  dimly  enchanted, 
It  lies  o'er  the  broad,  wide,  strand's  horizon  ; 
And  in  the  pure  blue  starless  heaven 
The  snowy  clouds  are  sweeping, 
Like  giant-towering  shapes  of  immortals 
Of  white  gleaming  marble. 

Nay,  but  I  err  ;  no  clouds  are  those  yonder  ! 
Those  are  in  person  the  great  gods  of  Hellas, 
Who  once  so  joyously  governed  the  world, 
But  now,  long  banished,  long  perished, 
As  monstrous,  terrible  spectres  are  sweeping 
Along  o'er  the  midnight  heaven. 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  23] 

Gazing  and  strangely  bewildered,  I  see 
The  airy  Pantheon, 
The  awfully  silent,  fearfully  sweeping, 
Giant-like  spectres. 

He  there  is  Kronion,  the  King  of  Heaven. 

Snow-white  are  the  locks  of  his  head, 

The  far-famed  locks  which  send  throbs  through 

Olympus. 

He  holds  in  his  hand  the  extinguished  bolt, 
Sorrow  and  suffering  sit  stern  on  his  brow, 
Yet  still  it  hath  ever  its  ancient  pride. 
Once  there  were  lorldlier  ages,  0  Zeus, 
When  thou  didst  revel  divinely, 
On  youths  and  maidens  and  hecatombs  many  ! 
But  e'en  the  immortals  may  not  reign  forever  ; 
The  younger  still  banish  the  elder, 
As  thou  thyself  didst  thy  gray  old  father, 
And  drove  from  their  kingdom  thy  Titan  uncles, 
Jupiter  Parricida ! 

Thee  too  I  know  well,  haughty  Juno ! 
Spite  of  all  thy  fearful  jealousy, 
Though  from  thee  another  thy  sceptre  hath  taken 
And  thou  art  no  more  the  Queen  of  heaven, 
And  thy  wondrous  eyes  seem  frozen, 
And  even  thy  lily-white  arms  are  powerless, 
And  never  more  can  fall  thy  vengeance 
On  the  god-impregnated  maiden 
And  the  wonder-effecting  son  of  Jove. 
Well  too  I  know  thee,  Pallas  Athene ! 
With  shield  and  wisdom  still  thou  couldst  not 
Avert  the  sad  fall  of  immortals  ! 


232  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

Thee  too  I  know  now, — yes,  thee,  Aphrodite ! 

Once  the  Golden  One, — now  the  Silver  One ! 

E'en  yet  the  charm  of  thy  girdle  adorns  thee; 

But  I  shudder  in  secret  before  thy  beauty, 

And  though  I  were  blessed  with  thy  beautiful  body, 

Like  other  heroes,  I'd  perish  with  fear  ; 

As  the  goddess  of  corpses  thou  seemest  to  me, 

Venus  Libitina ! 

No  more  in  fond  love  looks  on  thee, 

There,  the  terrible  Ares  ; 

Sadly  is  gazing  Phcebus  Apollo, 

The  youthful.     His  lyre  sounds  no  more, 

Which  once  rang  with  joy  at  the  feasts  of  the  gods. 

And  sadder  still  looks  Hephaistos, 

And — truly  the  limping  one  ! — nevermore 

Will  he  fill  the  office  of  Hebe, 

And  busily  pour  out,  in  the  Assembly, 

The  sweet-tasting  nectar. — And  long  hath  been  silent 

The  ne'er-to-be-silenced  laugh  of  immortals. 

Gods  of  old  time,  I  never  have  loved  ye  ! 

For  the  Greeks  did  never  chime  with  my  spirit, 

And  even  the  Romans  I  hate  at  heart ; 

But  holy  compassion  and  shuddering  pity 

Stream  through  my  soul 

As  I  now  gaze  upon  ye,  yonder, 

Gods  long  neglected, 

Death-like,  night-wandering  shadows, 

Weak  and  fading,  scattered  by  the  wind ; 

And  when  I  remember  how  weak  and  windy 

The  gods  now  are  who  o'er  you  triumphed, — 

The  new  and  the  sorrowful  gods  now  ruling, 


THE   NORTH   SEA.  233 

The  joy-destroyers  in  lamb-robes  of  meekness, — - 
Then  there  comes  o'er  me  gloomiest  rage  ; 
Fain  would  I  shatter  the  modern  temples, 
And  battle  for  ye,  ye  ancient  immortals, 
For  ye  and  your  good  old  ambrosial  right, 
And  before  your  lofty  altars, 
Once  more  erected,  with  incense  sweet  smoking, 
Would  I  once  more,  kneeling,  adoring, 
Raise  up  my  arms  to  you  in  prayer. 

For  constantly,  ye  old  immortals, 
Was  it  your  custom,  in  mortal  battles, 
Ever  to  lend  your  aid  to  the  conqueror : 
Therefore  is  man  now  far  nobler  than  you, 
And  in  the  contest  I  now  take  part 
With  the  cause  of  the  conquered  immortals. 

****** 
'Twas  thus  I  spoke,  and  blushes  were  visible 
Over  the  cold  white  aerial  figures, 
Gazing  upon  me  like  dying  ones 
With  pain  transfigured  :  they  quickly  vanished. 
The  moon  concealed  her  features 
Behind  a  cloud,  which  darkly  came  sweeping : 
Loudly  the  sea  rose  foaming, 
And  the  beautiful  calm-beaming  stars  victorious 
Shone  out  o'er  heaven. 

7. 
QUESTIONING. 

Sim  TOccr,  am  ttniften,  nadjUtcfjen  Officer. 

T>Y  the  sea,  by  the  dreary,  darkening  sea, 
Stands  a  youthful  man, 


234  THE   NORTH   SEA. 

His  heart  all  sorrowing,  his  head  all  doubting, 
And  with  gloomy  lips  he  questions  the  billows : 

"  Oh,  solve  me  Life's  riddle,  I  pray  ye, 

The  torturing  ancient  enigma 

Over  which  many  a  brain  hath  long  puzzled, 

Old  heads  in  hieroglyph-marked  mitres, 

Heads  in  turbans  and  caps  medieval, 

Wig-covered  pates,  and  a  thousand  others, 

Sweating,  wearying  heads  of  mortals  : — 

Tell  me,  what  meaneth  Man? 

Whence  came  he  hither  ?     Where  goes  he  hence  ? 

Who  dwells  there  on  high  in  the  radiant  planets  ?" 

The  billows  are  murmuring  their  murmur  unceasing. 
Wild  blows  the  wind,  the  dark  clouds  are  ileeting, 
The  stars  are  still  gleaming,  so  calmly  and  cold, 
And  a  fool  waits  for  an  answer. 

8. 
THE  PHCENIX. 

C3  fcnimt  ein  SScgcl  geflcgcn  au3  2?cftcn. 

A    BIRD  from  the  far  west  his  way  came  winging. 

Still  flying  eastward, 
To  the  beautiful  land  of  gardens, 
Where  sweetest  spices  are  breathing  and  growing, 
And  palm-trees  rustle,  and  brooks  are  rippling  ; 
And,  flying,  sings  the  bird  so  wondrous : 

"She  loves  him  !  she  loves  him ! 

She  bears  his  form  in  her  little  bosom, 


THE    NORTH    SEA.  235 

And  wears  it  sweetly  and  secretly  hidden, 

Yet  she  knows  it  not  yet ! 

Only  in  dreams  he  comes  to  her, 

And  she  prays  and  weeps,  his  hand  oft  kissing, 

His  name  often  calling, 

And  calling  she  wakens,  and  lies  in  terror, 

And  presses  in  wonder  those  eyes  soft  gleaming: — 

She  loves  him !  she  loves  him  !" 


9. 

ECHO. 

Sin  ten  3Hafttaum  gelcfmt,  auf  bem  Ijctjen  Zertcct. 

T  LEANED  on  the  mast ;  on  the  lofty  ship's  deck 
Standing,  I  heard  the  sweet  song  of  a  bird. 

Like  steeds  of  dark  green,  with  their  manes  of  bright 
silver, 

Sprang  up  the  white  and  wild  curling  billows. 

Like  trains  of  wild  swans  went  sailing  past  us, 

With  shimmering  canvas,  the  Helgolanders, 

The  daring  nomades  of  the  North  Sea. 

Over  my  head,  in  the  infinite  blue, 

Went  sailing  a  snowy  white  cloud. 

Bright  flamed  the  sun,  burning  forever, 

The  rose  of  heaven,  the  fire-blossoming, 

Who,  joyful,  mirrored  his  rays  in  ocean, 

Till  heaven  and  sea,  and  my  heart  besides, 

Rang  back  with  the  echo  : 

She  loves  him !  she  loves  him  ! 


236  THE   KOKTH   SEA. 

10. 

IN  PORT. 

<3lu<fHcfy  bet  TOann,  bet  bett  $>ajcn  mcicfjt  Ijat. 

TTAPPY  the  man  who  is  safe  in  his  haven, 

And  has  left  far  behind  the  sea  and  its  sorrows, 
And  now  so  warm  and  calmly  sits 
In  the  cosy  Town-Cellar  of  Bremen. 

Oh,  how  the  world  so  home-like  and  sweetly 

In  the  wine-cup  again  is  mirrored, 

And  how  the  wavering  microcosmos 

Sunnily  flows  through  the  thirstiest  heart ! 

All  things  I  see  in  the  glass, — 

Ancient  and  modern  histories  by  myriads, 

Grecian  and  Ottoman,  Hegel  and  Gans, 

Forests  of  citron,  and  watches  patrolling, 

Berlin,  and  Schilda,  and  Tunis,  and  Hamburg, 

But  above  all  the  form  of  the  loved  one, 

An  angel's  head  on  a  Rhine-wine-gold  ground. 

Oh,  how  fair !  how  fair  art  thou,  beloved ! 

Thou  art  as  fair  as  roses ! 

Not  like  the  roses  of  Shiraz, 

The  brides  of  the  nightingale,  sung  by  old  Ilafiz ! 

Not  like  the  rose  of  Sharon, 

Holily  blushing  and  hallowed  by  prophets  ; 

Thou  art  like  the  rose  in  the  cellar  of  Bremen  !  * 

*  In  the  Rathskeller — Council-Cellar  or  Town-Hall  Cellar — of 
Bremen,  there  is  kept  a  celebrated  tun,  called  "  THE  ROSE,"  con- 
ttvining  wine  three  hundred  years  old.  Around  it  are  the  "  TWELVE 


THE   SOUTH   SEA.  237 

That  is  the  Rose  of  Roses  : 

The  older  she  grows,  the  sweeter  she  blossoms, 

And  her  heavenly  perfume  has  made  me  happy, 

It  has  inspired  me,— has  made  me  tipsy; 

And  were  I  not  held  by  the  shoulder  fast 

By  the  Town-Cellar  Master  of  Bremen, 

I  had  gone  rolling  over  ! 

The  noble  soul !  we  sat  there  together, 
And  drank,  too,  like  brothers, 
Discoursing  of  lofty,  mysterious  matters, 
Sighing  and  sinking  in  solemn  embraces. 
He  made  me  a  convert  to  Love's  holy  doctrine  ; 
I  drank  to  the  health  of  my  bitterest  enemy, 
And  I  forgave  the  worst  of  all  poets, 
As  I  myself  some  day  shall  be  forgiven  ; 
Till,  piously  weeping,  before  me 
Silently  opened  the  gates  of  redemption, 
Where  the  twelve  Apostles — the  holy  barrels — 
Preach  in  silence,  and  yet  so  distinctly, 
Unto  all  nations. 

Those  are  the  fellows  ! 

Invisible  outward  in  sound  oaken  garments, 

Yet  they  within  are  more  lovely  and  radiant 

APOSTLES,"  or  hogsheads  filled  with  wine  of  a  lesser  age.  When 
a  bottle  is  drawn  from  tho  Rose,  it  is  supplied  from  one  of  the. 
Apostles;  and  by  this  arrangement  the  contents  of  the  Rose  are 
kept  up  to  tho  requisite  standard  of  antiquity.  Those  who  are 
familiar  with  the  writings  of  HVUFF  will  remember  the  ex 
quisite  and  genial  sketch  entitled  "  A  Fantasy  in  the  Rathskeller 
of  Bremen."— TRANSLATOR. 


238  THE   NORTH  SEA. 

Than  all  the  proudest  priests  of  the  Temple 

And  the  lifeguardsmen  and  courtiers  of  Herod, 

Glittering  in  gold  and  arrayed  in  rich  purple ; — 

Still  I  have  ever  maintained 

That  not  amid  common,  vulgar  people, 

No,  but  in  the  elite  of  society, 

Constantly  lived  the  monarch  of  heaven. 

Hallelujah !     How  sweetly  wave  round  me 

The  palm-trees  of  Bath-El ! 

How  sweet  breathe  the  myrrh-shrubs  of  Hebron ! 

How  Jordan  ripples  and  tumbles  with  gladness, 

And  my  own  immortal  spirit  tumbleth, 

And  I  tumble  with  it,  and,  tumbling, 

I'm  helped  up  the  stairway  into  broad  daylight, 

By  the  brave  Council-Cellar  Master  of  Bremen  ! 

Thou  brave  Council-Cellar  Master  of  Bremen  ! 
Seest  thou  upon  the  roofs  of  the  houses  sitting 
The  angels  ? — and  they  are  all  tipsy  and  singing ; 
The  radiant  sun,  too,  yonder  in  heaven, 
Is  only  a  crimson,  wine-colored  proboscis, 
Which  the  World-Soul  protrudeth, 
And  round  the  red  nose  of  the  World-Soul 
Goes  whirling  the  whole  of  the  tipsified  world. 


THE    NORTH    SEA. 
11. 

EPILOGUE. 

te  anf  tern  Jclte 


A  S  in  the  meadow  the  wheat  is  growing, 

So,  sprouting  and  waving  in  mortal  souls, 
Thoughts  are  growing. 
Ay, — but  the  soft  inspirations  of  poets 
Are  like  the  blue  and  crimson  flowerets 
Blossoming  amid  them. 
Blue  and  crimson  blossoms, 
The  ill-natured  reaper  rejects  ye  as  useless, 
Blockheaded  simpletons  scorn  ye  while  threshing  ; 
Even  the  penniless  wanderer, 
Who  by  your  sight  is  made  glad  and  inspired, 
Shakes  his  head, 

And  calls  ye  weeds,  though  lovely. 
Only  the  fair  peasant  maiden, 
The  one  who  twines  her  garlands, 
Honors  you  truly,  and  plucks  you, 
And  decks  with  you  her  lovely  tresses, 
And,  when  thus  adorned,  to  the  dance  hastens, 
Where  the  pipe  and  the  viol  are  merrily  pealing; 
Or  to  the  tranquil  beech-  tree, 
Where  the  voice  of  the  loved  one  more  pleasantly 

sounds 
Than  the  pipe  or  the  viol. 


Stints. 


